#closest i got was one time twisting a guys arm behind his back to slam him face down onto the desk during class bc he was annoying me

[latinokaeya-moving]

my uncle was sort of the “troublemaker” as a kid/teen and would start arguments all the time except he is, once again as i said, Thee Devil Incarnate, so he would go out of his way to rile up these other guys his age and then would send my mum after them to the fights He Started so she could handle them. HE WOULDNT EVEN FIGHT HIS OWN FIGHTS 😭😭😭

[foxcort]

Something about him felt . . . familiar. Kindred.

written for day 1: art & music of @feylinweek. / or sketcher!feyre and violinist!tamlin college au 🌹

Her muse is well over six feet tall, she thinks. And very good at playing violin.

He stands before the backdrop of one of the college’s old, brown-bricked buildings, in a dark green, wool trench coat, his hands steady as he guides the bow over strings. There’s hardly an audience this late into the afternoon, but he plays anyway, and Feyre imagines he’s playing for himself.

She sketches him quickly, furtively. The sharp autumn wind makes it difficult, makes her knuckles ache and her face pink. But she draws her faded jacket closer to her body and swipes at the errant pieces of her hair whipping in the wind, tucking them behind her ears roughly.

Her hands move in practiced, habitual motions, neck lifting every now and then to recapture his frame, until she's all but memorized him. His shoulder-length blond hair, the burly build of his body, the way his eyes close when he plays what she assumes is a particularly satisfying note.

It's when she's halfway through, completely bound to the strokes of her pencil and the image unfolding before her, that a voice she doesn’t anticipate rumbles to her left.

“That’s . . . really good.”

Her hand jerks and a deep, bold line cuts across the paper.

Heart slamming into her throat, Feyre twists to face him, the sketchpad instinctively pressing against her chest.

Her muse is standing right next to her, guilt knitting his brows together. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” His voice is deeper than she imagined, and in his hand is his violin case. Had she really been so immersed that he’d had the time to put away his violin?

“I saw you looking over at me a couple of times and got curious.”

“No, no— it’s fine.” She rushes to stand up, her face heating and her stiff fingers still clinging tight to her half-finished drawing as she blurts out. “It’s for one of my art finals.” She gestures to the hidden sketch. “I’m not stalking you, or anything.”

He laughs, and it sounds full and warm, a balm against the cold. “I’m flattered. Although I think I ruined any chance of you receiving a passing grade.”

Something about his laugh melts all the places the wind has frosted. “I can always do one of my sister’s garden. I’ve yet to meet a professor who doesn’t eat up florals.” Boldness — or maybe the natural progression of a conversation involving someone she was secretly sketching — steels her. “I’m Feyre.”

“Tamlin.” His eyes fall to the sketchpad in her arms, a flicker of worry there. “Doesn’t it hurt to do that out here, in the cold?”

She smiles, nodding to violin case in his hand. “Doesn’t it hurt to do that out here, in the cold?”

Tamlin ducks his head and treats her with another laugh, his free hand slipping into his coat pocket. “There’s a coffee shop nearby, run by a friend of mine.” Foxhole Ground. It was the closest cafe to the campus and she’d passed it on her way here. “In my experience, holding a cup of hot tea or coffee does wonders for frozen fingers.”

“Does it?” She quips immediately, her heart beating a little faster than normal. It’s not that she’s never been approached and asked on an impromptu date by an attractive person. Something about him felt . . . familiar. Kindred.

He pulls his hand out of his pocket, runs his fingers through his hair, a sheepish expression on his face. “And maybe this time I can sit still while you draw?”

Feyre grinned, sliding the strap of her bag onto her shoulder, tapping the butt of her pencil lightly against his violin case. “Not completely still, I hope.” She starts walking down the brick path and he follows with that brilliant smile growing back over his mouth.

a/n: also known as the coffee shop adjacent au lol. hope you guys enjoyed this one!

[ragingbookdragon]

Batsis Meet The Batboys

Batsis x Batfamily One-Shot

Word Count: 4.1K Warnings: Explicit Language, Angst

Author's Note: Y'all, I am slowly but surely making good on that promise to get all my stories reposted--also editing them so they're nice and neat! Enjoy! -Thorne

Dick:

She hummed in amusement as her father grunted and begrudgingly passed over another five into the man’s hand. “You know…it’s good to know that my perfect father actually sucks at something.” She turned and popped a piece of cotton candy into her mouth. “And it’s carnival games.”

He grunted again when he missed the balloon, and he handed her the darts. “Why don’t you try it, sweetheart?”

She handed him the cotton candy with a grin and took the darts, holding one up and making the repeated motion of throwing it. She couldn’t help but feel a little cocky as she asked, “Dad, if I get this, what toy do you want?”

She nodded to the bat in the corner. “I was thinking about the stuffed bat. Eh, dad?” He glared at her, but she laughed as she tossed the weighted dart, watching as it hit center and she pointed to the bat. “I’ll take that one.”

The man handed it to her, and they walked off; she held it up to her father. “Here. A bat for Batman,” she quipped, and he grunted at her.

“That isn’t funny, (Y/N).”

She shrugged and retorted, “It’s a little funny. You just have no sense of humor because you’re a stick in the mud.” (Y/N) shoved the stuffed animal in her backpack before reaching up and taking her father’s hand; she glanced down at her wristwatch on the opposite hand and said, “The performances don’t start for another twenty minutes. Want to go look at something else? I saw one of those spinning car rides. We could do that.”

When he didn’t give her response, she looked back up at him to see him staring off into the distance, his eyes set on the Wayne Enterprises tower. “Dad? You okay?”

He blinked as if startled from his thoughts and he directed his gaze down at her and after a few moments, he nodded. “Just thinking.”

“Penny for your thoughts.”

“I haven’t spent a lot of time with you.” He frowned and squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry, (Y/N). I haven’t been a good—”

She cut him off with a ‘pfft’. “Dad, it’s alright. I’m not angry.” (Y/N) squeezed his hand in return. “I might be young, but I’m not an idiot. I know being a dad is new for you, especially since you didn’t get to watch me grow up the first decade of my life. But what matters is that you’re here now, and you’re doing the best you can. And that’s all I ask of you.”

At her little speech, he was stunned, and after a moment he knelt down and hugged her. “I love you, sweetheart.”

(Y/N) returned the hug, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, though they were so big and broad that she couldn’t meet her hands around his back. “I love you too, dad.”

Happening to glance over his shoulder, she immediately gasped. “Dad!”

He let her go, immediately moving to protect her. “What? What is it?”

(Y/N) pointed towards a costumed family walking and greeting the people. “It’s the Flying Grayson’s!” She grabbed his hand and tugged him along in their direction. “Let’s get a picture with them!” She could hear her father chuckle behind her, but he followed, and they stepped up to the family.

(Y/N) waved at them. “Hi Mister and Missus Grayson! Can we get a picture with you?”

The man and woman smiled at them and nodded, and a boy a couple years younger than her stepped up.

He stuck out his hand. “Hi, I’m Richard Grayson. But you can call me Dick.”

(Y/N) took his hand and shook it. “(Y/N) Wayne. Nice to meet you, Dick.” She gestured to her father. “This is my dad, Bruce Wayne.”

Her father smiled and tipped his head towards the boy before handing the camera to someone and stepping beside her. She and Dick had become friends instantaneously as they slung their arms around each other’s necks, their grins cheesy and wide.

The camera flashed and the man handed Bruce the camera, and (Y/N) nodded to the family. “Thank you for taking a picture with us.” They started to walk away, but she stopped them, motioning to her dad. “Can my dad take a picture of the three of you? I know it seems a little weird, but it’d be cool to have a picture of you guys, and one with you.” They nodded at her request and she gestured to her father, watching him take the photo of the family. “Thank you!”

They waved and walked off, leaving them, and she turned to Bruce. “Wanna go find seats?” He nodded, and they began moving in the direction of the tent.

***

Time seemed to grind to a halt as (Y/N)’s heart stopped in her chest as she watched them slam into the ground. Chaos filled the tent in mere seconds, people screaming, children crying, and her father grabbed her arm. “(Y/N)—”

She nodded and pulled her arm away, already starting to make her way from her seat. “I’ve got him. Go.” She didn’t wait for his reply, hopping the seats until her feet hit the dirt ground and she broke into a sprint towards the sobbing boy in the center.

She twisted her feet and slid on the ground next to him, her heart tightened when he gazed up at her, sky blue eyes wide in agony. (Y/N) reached out, wrapping her arms around him. “I’ve got you Dick. I’ve got you kid.”

She felt his arms come around her middle as his head burrowed in her shoulder; his entire body shook with every heart-wrenching sob, and (Y/N) raised one of her hands, running it through his hair as she whispered repeatedly, “I’ve got you.”

(Y/N) heard GCPD officers shouting, and she looked up, seeing her father standing beside them. “Batman,” she whispered softly.

He glanced at her before kneeling beside them and blocking the way of the fallen couple. “You two shouldn’t look at this anymore.”

She nodded and squeezed the boy on the shoulder. “Dick. We need to get away from here.”

“I can’t…leave them.” He pulled back, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I’m…all alone.”

(Y/N) shook her head, and placed a hand on his cheek. “I’m here, Dick. You’re not alone.” His face pinched as a new round of tears sprouted in his eyes and he lowered his head, the sobs wracking his body, and she gazed up at her father’s face, knowing the agony behind the white slits. “You’re not alone.”

Jason:

She walked alongside her father, tugging at the collar of her suit. “Can’t we make a suit that doesn’t choke me as much as this collar does? I feel like I’ve got one of Ivy’s vines wrapped around my throat.” He didn’t say anything and she rolled her eyes. “Fine. Fine. Ignore me. I see how it is.”

“You’re the one who designed your suit, Batgirl. I told you to choose breathable fabric but you refused and said you wanted adequate protection like mine.”

She blinked and glared at him. “Do you get some sick pleasure from repeating my apparent failures?” He chuckled lightly, and she looked around. “Whatever…I still think you shouldn’t have parked in Crime Alley. You know there’s always trouble here.”

“The Batmobile is fine,” he said, voice tired as if he’d answered the question a hundred times before—he had.

(Y/N) hummed, nodding to the car a few feet ahead of them and quipped, “Oh, so the kid jacking the tires off it is completely normal?”

Her father looked at her split second before turning to see it, his eyes widening in disbelief as he muttered, “I don’t believe what I’m seeing.” He moved soundlessly towards the boy, her following.

“Got to give it to him. It takes some big balls to jack the Batman’s ride,” she admired and he grunted, though she knew he was in agreement, and they walked up on the oblivious boy.

She watched her father pull his ‘Put-The-Fear-Of-Batman-Into-‘Em’ stance and he cleared his throat with an exaggerated, ‘ahem’. (Y/N) snorted at the way the boy jerked, twisting to see them staring at him; she swore he’d shit himself the way the fear bled into his eyes.

Her father glared at the kid. “You do realize that’s the Batmobile, right?”

The boy’s face pinched, and he tipped his head up, his voice haughty. “Duh. You do realize you parked your car in Crime Alley, right?” (Y/N) barked a laugh, but quickly coughed when her father turned his glower to her, and he turned back to the boy just in time to see him swinging the tire iron.

“Bad move, hotshot.” Her words fell on deaf ears as she watched her father catch the tool and grip the boy by the front of his hoodie, picking him up off the ground a few feet.

He squirmed, legs kicking out for few seconds before spitting, “You want to beat up on a kid, go enlist in the GCPD like every other bully in this city.”

(Y/N) saw the gears turning in her father’s head as he leaned in, his face inches apart from the boys as he demanded, “I’m only going to ask you this once…So give some serious thought to your answer.”

The boy craned his neck, eyes narrowed as he asked, “What it is?”

Her father gave him a smirk. “Are you hungry?” The boy’s brows furrowed in suspicion, and within the next ten minutes, they were sitting on the hood of the Batmobile eating burgers and fries and sipping on milkshakes.

At one point, she’d reached over and grabbed the boy’s hands; he looked up at her and she nodded to his burger. “Slow down, Jason. You’ll eat your hand at this rate.”

He snorted but nodded, eating a little slower than before as he said, “Sorry. This is the closest thing to a home-cooked meal since I’ve had a home.” He paused and looked out at the city. “It’s funny…I was here once, looking for Wayne Manor.” He looked between them. “I was trying to case the place, but I got lost.”

Bruce looked down at the boy and questioned, “Why do you think it’s okay to steal from people?”

Jason scoffed at his question. “Are you kidding me? Look at this view.” He motioned to the buildings in the distance. “Freaking ‘Billionaire Playboy’ thinks he’s the king of the world. Pfft.”

(Y/N) elbowed him in the ribs and quipped, “Oh honey, he doesn’t think he is. He knows he is.”

The two of them cackled, but the solemn look from her father made their laughter fall short and he said, “Sometimes you just have to give people a chance Jason…they’ll usually surprise you.”

Her father’s words made Jason pause, and she saw him sink into deep thought. After a few moments, she leaned across Jason and nudged her father.

He looked at her and she tipped her head to Jason. “Does this mean he’s coming home with us?” Her father looked at him and back to her, then nodded and she shifted her arm, grinning as she wrapped it around Jason’s neck. “Well then, welcome to the family…little brother.”

Tim:

She could sense the boy following her, and after a few moments, she realized he wasn’t giving up. It wasn’t just some coincidence that they were on the same path—he wanted something from her. She glanced over her shoulder before ducking into the shadows of an alley, waiting for him to follow.

Sure enough, he stepped into the opening of the alley, looking for her, then he shook his head and stamped his foot on the ground. “No-no-no. I was so close to finding her.” He sighed and his shoulders fell in defeat as he visibly deflated.

She stepped behind him and gripped his shoulder in an steel-tight grasp, inquiring, “Why are you following me, kid?”

The kid gasped like he’d been shot as his knees collapsed beneath him, falling from her grip and to the ground. He rolled and gazed up at her with a mixture of shock and wonder as he breathed, “Batgirl.”

She glared down at him and demanded, “Answer my question before I call GCPD for you being out past curfew. Why. Are. You. Following. Me.”

He swallowed thickly before nodding rapidly. “Right. You see, I’ve been looking for you, Batgirl.”

“Yeah, I got that from the tailing. What I wanna know is, why?”

“I need to talk to you about Batman.”

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion at the mention of her father. “What’s a scrawny-ass kid like you, need to talk about Batman with me for?”

His mouth opened, then it snapped shut and he seemed to think on his answer for a moment. He looked at his hands and whispered, “It’s about your brother…Jason Todd.”

Hearing her deceased brother’s name knocked the air from her lungs and she barely managed to get the word ‘what?’ out without sucking in a breath.

He glanced up at her. “I know who you are Miss Way—”

(Y/N)’s hand shot out and she slapped it over his mouth before shaking her head. “Don’t say my name. You don’t know who’s listening.” He went silent as she removed her hand and held it out for him. “C’mon. If you know who I am then that means you know everyone’s identity.”

He nodded mutely and she clicked a button on her wrist; A few moments later, her bike pulled in front of the alley. “Get up. We need to go have a chat.” He took her hand, letting her haul him to his feet, and they walked over to the bike. (Y/N) climbed on before nodding to him. “Get on and hold on.” He followed her order, sitting in front of her, and she took off.

***

A few minutes later, they were stepping into one of the safe houses her dad set up around the city. She closed the door and flicked on the light, pulling the cowl off before gesturing to the table. “Sit.” He obeyed and she opened the refrigerator, pulling out two sodas. (Y/N) turned, taking the seat across from him and sliding his drink over. “Now. Who are you and how do you know about all this?”

He nodded and pulled out a giant book, placing it on the table. “My name is Timothy Jackson Drake, I’m thirteen, and I’ve been following the exploits of Batman, Batgirl, and Robin since I was two.”

(Y/N) cocked a brow at that. “Two’s a little young to be able to remember us.”

Tim looked at the book and nodded. “I know…but I have a photographic memory, and I remember the first time I saw Batman.”

“And that was?”

He paused and his voice quiet. “The night Dick Grayson’s parents were murdered.” (Y/N)’s eyes went wide, and he drew his eyes to hers. “I remember Dick swinging to the ground as his parents climbed the ladder. His mom went first, and his dad followed. Then…the rope snapped, and…they fell.”

Tim quieted considerably and she had to strain to hear him as he recounted, “I got scared, and I looked away. I couldn’t watch…then I heard the crash and Dick sobbing. And I saw you run down and hug him.” He met her gaze. “Then I saw this giant, dark shape falling towards you, and I thought it was going to hurt you two. But then I realized Batman wasn’t trying to hurt you…he was trying to help you both. And he went from being a monster…to becoming some great Dark Knight.”

Tim looked at her. “From them on, I’ve been having the same dream, over and over. I—”

(Y/N) raised a hand, stopping him. “When did you find out who we were?”

He nodded. “When I was nine, I was watching TV and I saw you and Dick, well, Robin and Batgirl. You—”

“Batgirl and Robin. In that order.” She pointed to herself with a face that could only be something akin to the ‘first-child-syndrome’. “I was first.”

A smile grew across Tim’s face and he nodded. “Right, Batgirl and Robin. Anyway, I saw you two on TV, and I watched Dick perform a quadruple somersault.” He grinned rather proudly of himself and declared, “I knew that somersault like I knew my own name. About six months later, Robin made his first appearance. And if Dick Grayson was Robin and Bruce Wayne’s ward, then Bruce Wayne was Batman, and you were Batgirl.” (Y/N) stared at Tim in shock, too stunned to even form words.

He shifted nervously under her gaze. “Um…Miss (Y/N)? Batgirl? Are you alright?”

(Y/N) blinked and shook her head as she muttered, “Holy shit, kid. What are you?”

“I—I’m sorry?”

She huffed a laugh and grinned at him. “You’ve got some damn good detective skills to have figured all that out.” Tim smiled sheepishly under the praise, then (Y/N) stood up from the table, stretching her arms over her head until she heard her joints pop, then she stared at him. “You got a place to sleep tonight?”

“I…no. Not at the moment.”

(Y/N) placed her hands on her hips and hummed. “And why’s that?”

“Well, in the course of looking for you, I’ve also been looking for Dick. But I can’t find him. He’s good at disappearing.”

She nodded and pointed to a room. “I know where Dick is. Go sleep in the guest room, and tomorrow we can go find him.”

As she walked past him, heading for her room, he questioned dubiously, “You’d do that for me?”

(Y/N) stopped and glanced over her shoulder. “Isn’t that what family does?”

Tim’s jaw went slack and he gaped at her as she stepped into her room and closed the door behind her.

Damian:

She shut the door behind her and locked it, though there really wasn’t any reason to considering the fact that no one could get into the manor, let alone across the front lawn without anyone inside knowing.

Hauling the bag up and over her shoulder, she found it odd that no one had greeted her yet and her oddity turned into unsettling when she didn’t hear anything.

She dropped her keys in the silver bowl on the side table and looked around the foyer. “Hello? Dad? Alfred? Timmy?” She stuck her head in the kitchen door. “Anyone home?”

There was no response and she hummed questioningly, knowing that on a Sunday, everyone was home relaxing. She made her way to the study and shifted the clock hands, watching as the entrance appeared, then she descended the steps into the cave. It was even quieter than usual, and she felt the hairs stand up on the back on her neck as she made her way to the Batcomputer.

She pushed a button on the keyboard, watching as the screen came to life and said, “Give me the most recent update.”

“Confirmation?” It replied.

“(Y/N) Wayne, Batgirl.”

The computer beeped for a moment. “(Y/N) Wayne. Batgirl. Access level high.” It paused. “Access granted. Welcome Batgirl.”

“Give me the most recent update.”

“Requested.” It processed the request then told her, “Talia al Ghul entered Gotham Bay approximately two days ago, leaving behind Damian al Ghul in Batman’s custody.”

Damian al Ghul? Who the hell is that? (Y/N) raised an eyebrow as she pushed another button. “Who is Damian al Ghul.”

“Damian al Ghul is the biological son of Bruce Wayne and Talia al Ghul. Conceived…month and day unknown…year was two-thousand-three.”

(Y/N) stared at the screen, not sure if she should feel shock that her dad had a second biological kid, or disgust that he slept with Talia to get one. All the sudden, her training kicked in and she felt someone behind her. She spun around, catching the blade of a sword coming at her. She looked down at a young child, no older than ten, glaring up at her. She’d seen pictures of her father when he was a child, and though he had Talia’s emerald green eyes and olive complexion, there was no mistaking the resemblance between him and her father.

Her eyes narrowed into slits as she shoved him away. “The hell are you doing?”

He raised the sword again and said, “Testing you.”

(Y/N) crossed her arms, her gaze curious. “For what purpose?”

He ran at her waving the sword. “To see if you are really father’s daughter.”

She chuckled at that and dodged each attempt to cut her. “Trust me short-stack, I’m Bruce Wayne’s kid.”

Her insult seemed to set him off and he swung the sword wildly. “I am not short!”

(Y/N) grunted as the blade grazed her arm, and she clenched her jaw. “Alright. I’m done entertaining you.”

She let him come to her, then she twisted, wrenching the sword from his grip before tossing it away and coming back around. She gripped him by the collar and used the momentum to slam him to the ground before pulling his arms behind him and putting her knee in his back.

It all happened within seconds, and he didn’t know how to respond other than to cry out in anger. “Let go!”

She pulled his arms tighter until he stopped squirming and she leaned down. “Take a chill pill, runt.” He still cried out in rage at the name, and she heard someone grunt a few feet from her.

“Let him up, (Y/N).”

She looked up to see her father and Alfred walking towards her. She obeyed, rolling away from the boy and to her feet. “I was wondering where you were.”

Bruce nodded to Damian, who was pulling himself off the floor in a rather heated fashion. “We were trying to find out where Damian had gone.”

(Y/N) eyed him for a moment before murmuring, “So, he really is your kid?”

Damian cut Bruce off, spitting, “Are you jealous?”

She looked at Damian and snorted. “Not even an ounce short-cake.” (Y/N) laughed at the way his face pinched in rage, and she turned to Bruce. “You just can’t help collecting them, can you?” He glared at her and she laughed, walking over and nudging him. “Smile a little, Scrooge. Your face will get stuck like that if you don’t.”

He sighed, and muttered, “I don’t know what to do with him.”

(Y/N) glanced at the boy who was picking up his sword. “Too angry?”

“Belligerent is more like it.”

She chuckled and patted his back. “Don’t worry. I’ve got him.”

“(Y/N) I don’t think—”

“Relax, dad. I handled Dick’s anger, didn’t I?”

“Damian’s got Dick beat by a longshot. I don’t think he knows any demeanor other than attack.”

(Y/N) waved as she walked towards Damian. “No one’s able to beat Dick’s anger. No one in a million years could reach the level of pissed off Dick Grayson stays at.” Bruce grinned as he watched (Y/N) take the sword and move Damian towards the stairs. “C’mon pint-sized. We’re going to explore Gotham.”

“I do not want to go.” He retorted, pulling away from her.

She grasped the back of his neck like a puppy and held him firmly as they walked and she quipped, “I don’t really give a fuck whether you want to or not. You’ve been raised by homicidal psychopaths since you were born.” She looked down at him. “You need to see the real world.”

“My grandfather and mother aren’t psychopaths!”

“Oh really? So killing people for money or because honor demands it, isn’t psychopathic traits? What about when Ra’s kills people because they disrespect him?”

“That is different!”

“I mean you don’t see me poppin’ caps in people’s asses when they call me a whore, do you?”

Bruce watched the two of them climb the stairs, arguing, and he sighed, sensing Alfred walk next to him.

“Almost reminds you of Master Dick and Miss (Y/N), doesn’t it Master Bruce?”

He looked at Alfred, then smiled and nodded. “In every way, shape, and form.”

Alfred smiled. “It is such a good thing that Miss (Y/N) is the oldest. The boys have needed her.”

“She’s their protector.”

Alfred paused, resting a hand on his shoulder; Bruce met his gaze and saw such a solemnity in them as he said, “She is everyone’s protector, Master Bruce. Even yours.” Alfred walked away, then Bruce turned and looked at the photo resting on the desk. It was the first photo he and (Y/N) had taken in their suits.

He smiled at it and nodded. “That she is.”

[themand0lorian]

FLUFFTOBER DAY 7-MEDDLING FRIENDS

FLUFFTOBER MASTERLIST

Summary: You and Frankie reminisce on old times when the closet door mysteriously locks.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader (no Y/N)

Rating:  PG (allusions to spice and a smooch)

Words: ~1900 (AO3)

Tags: friends to lovers, trapped in a closet, Santi is a little shit, mentions of service/not coming back, nostalgia

Notes: One week in! Hope everyone’s enjoying--I’m really happy with this one!

It feels nostalgic coming up to the Morales home; Mr. and Mrs. long since retired, moved down to Florida to a community where someone mows their lawn and delivers their groceries. Frankie’s been tasked with his childhood home; pack up what he wants, donate the rest, just get it on the market already. With the promise of pizza and beer, you and the boys happily lend a hand; placing dusty knickknacks in boxes, wrapping once-prized but now outdated porcelain in bubble wrap. Pretty much all of it was going to the VA; the couch where Santi beat Frankie in Mario Kart, the kitchen set where Mrs. Morales made her famous enchiladas for a tableful of hungry teens, the dank basement futon you had spent more than one night on after staying over too late, Mr. Morales refusing to let you drive home in the dark. It would all go to someone who needed it, who was restarting their lives just as your boys had—but you were sad to see it go.

You could hear Will and Benny upstairs arguing—over what, who knows—while Santi was packing away the inset bookshelves, grumbling about the quantity of books the Morales’s kept. Frankie’s clanging in the kitchen, examining pots and pans that may or may not make their way to his house. You’re in the front coat closet; packed to the brim with everything from holiday decorations to clothing donations to—finally, mercifully—coats, each box needs to be opened and turned through before it makes its way into the hallway, only for one of the boys to carry it out to Frankie’s truck.

You hadn’t gone with them when Santi and Frankie joined the Forces; hadn’t asked what they saw when they were there. You only made them promise, no matter what, they’d come back to you somehow. Then they came back with Benny and Will, and the two seemed to fit so seamlessly into your friend group, you’d forgotten they didn’t grow up with you as well. You hear one of the Millers take the boxes outside your closet; the one up on the top shelf, red plastic and labeled “Misc.” proving a bit too heavy, and you call out for the closest help as it threatens to fall on you.

“Santi! Can you help me!”

“Fish, you do it. I’ve got to do…this,” he yells into the kitchen, and you hear the pans fall onto the counter. Your back is turned to Santi, so you miss the smirk he gives Will, watching as Frankie makes his way into the closet.

“Oh, shit, hold on,” he breathes, reaching past you to help you take the bin down. You both whirl around when the door slams behind you; it’s closed on its own despite being propped open before, and Frankie quickly takes a step forward to push the door open with his body strength, but it doesn’t budge.

“Pope! Benny! Not funny!” he yells through the door, and you think you hear the boys snickering. Then Santi speaks to them.

“I tell ya’ what, guys—I think I heard they were having a sale on beer down the road. Maybe we should go grab some before they sell out.” The Millers agree, and you watch Frankie’s shoulders deflate as you hear the front door open and close, then loud retreating laughter, then silence.

Frankie turns to you; under the yellowish closet light, he looks almost angelic, but his face is twisted in torment.

“I’m sorry—this must be some prank on me, and you got caught—”

“Don’t worry about it, Frankie,” you coo, running a hand over his arm in comfort. “Let’s go through this box, then I’m sure they’ll be back and I can kick Santi’s ass.”

Frankie laughs then, settling cross-legged on the floor next to you as you pull the tote open. Inside are various items, truly the definition of miscellaneous; a pair of sunglasses from the 80’s that you quickly don, a cowboy hat that you place on Frankie’s head that he claims he doesn’t know the origin of, a plastic Hawaiian lei that gets thrown around your neck. There are a few trinkets, a dusty photo of your kindergarten tee ball team, some old clothes, then at the bottom, tucked away, is a smaller box. You lift it out to open it in your lap.

A few things jump out at you. A friendship bracelet made of string you had given Frankie at summer camp as young kids, that he wore until it fell off. His old baseball uniform, what you assume is his corsage from prom, dried and pressed. At the bottom, there’s a film strip of you and Frankie at the mall, making silly faces at the camera and being typical teens. You look at it closely, but Frankie rips it away from you.

“Oh, uh—don’t worry about all this, I’ll take it,” he stammers, and you glance at the side of the box. It has your name written on it.

“Frankie, why is this box—” you can’t finish the question, and he takes a moment before responding.

“Uh—before I went over there. I had all this stuff, stuff I wanted to remember. Stuff that—if I didn’t come back—that I wanted with me.” You look at him with watery eyes as he pulls out the dried corsage. “You got me this for prom. We didn’t even go together; I was such a loser, I was going with Santi and some of the guys, and—”

“And I told you that you deserved flowers, even without a date.” You finish the story for him, remembering how you pinned it to his lapel, how proud he was that the color matched your dress. Luke, your date at the time, was less than enthused.

“And this—I wore this every day until it fell off.” He holds the friendship bracelet delicately. “I came home crying because I thought that, once it fell off, you’d stop being my friend.” He chuckles, tucking it away. “Mom told me that’s not how it works.”

“This is my uniform from senior year.” He pulls the baseball jersey out, his name etched across the back, and runs his fingers over it. “I finally made varsity, but they benched me every game. I was so bad—” He laments, and you hum. “But you came to every game. Cheered the loudest when they put me in as a pinch hitter for one at bat,” he snorts, and you finish excitedly.

“Yeah! And you got three runs in!”

“But I got out at first,” he laughs, and you rest your head on his shoulder. “That was the senior game. All the guys were given bouquets of roses to give to someone important in their lives, girlfriends or teachers or whatever. I—I wanted to give it to you, but I chickened out. I gave it to my mom,” he chuckles.

“I would’ve accepted the honor,” you hum, and he nods.

“I know. That was the problem,” he chuckles, and you slap his chest playfully, straightening up. “I was this nerdy, awkward guy with a patchy beard and too-long arms. How could I give the most beautiful girl in school flowers?” Your face heats, but you can’t help the jab as you run your hand over his scruff.

“Well you’ve still got the patchy beard—” he laughs fully before you can finish, cutting off the thought with his own.

“And you’re still the most beautiful—” he cuts himself off before he finishes, embarrassedly folding the jersey in his lap. You try to spare him, recounting more memories

“You know, I spent so long trying to be ‘one of the guys’ with you and Santi. Remember at your birthday party, when Santi made us play ‘7 Minutes in Heaven’?” Frankie snorts, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, you spent the whole time telling me how to improve my game with Isabelle,” he jokes, and you bump your shoulder into him.

“Well clearly you needed some help! Isabelle wasn’t the one who ended up in the closet with you!” Your voice falters on the last words, realizing how similar your situation is now. To cut the rising tension, you reach into the box again.

You pull out a plastic medal, red white and blue stripes around the string, and place it on Frankie, avoiding the cowboy hat he’s still wearing. “We got this after we won the obstacle course at Field Day.” Frankie nods, remembering you running up the inflatable rock climbing wall, and the choice position of his hand as he helped you over it. “You touched my butt and then wouldn’t talk to me for a week,” you laugh as Frankie blushes, continuing to paw through the box, but it’s mostly movie ticket stubs and tiny trinkets now.

He toys with the film strip in his hand, debating on bringing it out, but eventually, his heart wins out, and he brings it between you.

“This was the day I told you I was going into the army. You—you weren’t even sad. You just told me we had to have fun then, just in case, and made me promise to come back.” You look over at the black and white photos as you speak.

“Frankie, I was so sad, I just didn’t want to make you feel bad.” In the first, you and Frankie have broad smiles, mid-laughter. In the second, you clearly attempted silly faces, but the photo was creased down the center like it had been folded and unfolded hundreds of times. It’s the bottom photo that strikes you—you’re facing the camera, smiling so bright your eyes are closed, Frankie’s arms around you. You look like the happiest person alive, and Frankie is beside you with the same look—but he’s facing you. “I—I kept this in my cap while we were over there. So—so I knew you’d be there. Even if I didn’t come back.” Tears are freely falling down your face now, and you push the vintage sunglasses up into your hair as you run a finger over the photos.

“You—you were never ‘one of the guys’ to me.” You look at him, his breath heavy in the tight space between you; you can hear him gulp. “You were everything to me. You are everything to me.”

You’re not sure who initiates it first, but your lips meet almost immediately, moving and pulsing as a broad hand encompasses your cheek. His kiss feels like coming home, like all the years you’ve known him have been building up to this exact moment. Your bodies move closer and closer, and for a moment you think he may take you in this locked closet, but suddenly, the door swings open, and you both jump apart like scared teenagers. Santi, Benny and Will are standing in the open doorway, each with their own shit-eating grin, but Santi can’t help but butt in.

“Finally! I’ve been waiting for that to happen since I rigged ‘7 Minutes in Heaven’ in 9th grade!”

TAGLIST: @ophelialoveshandsomemen​ @ksd24670​ @rosiefridayrogersunday​ @evelynseventyr​ @ajeff855​ @thewintersoldierswife​ @knowledgefulbutterfly​ @amneris21​ @sarahjkl82-blog​ @hellovanessax​ @darling-din @rebel-fanfare​ @tobealostwanderer​ @randomness501​ @farfromjustordinary​ @outlawedmando​ @agirllovespancakes​ @pedrostories​ @solemnlyswearss​ @mandocrasis​ @raspberrymama​ @pjkimrn​ @kirsteng42​ @ladykatakuri​ @marydjarin​ @fangirl-of-randomness​ @aquilacorvinal​ @mamacitapascal @dobbyjen​ @castleamc

[rwrights]

WE'LL BE OKAY - NAT.

summary : nat and you never got along. reasons still unknown, but it was affecting the whole team. steve assigns you both to a mission, with natasha acting harshly. she said something to you before heading off. she got in your head and the aftermath wasn't so pretty.

contents : angst (??) / fluff

warnings : mentions of blood, guns, bullying, cursing and just occasional marvel fight scenes.

NOT PROOFREAD. a/n : my first fic aaaahhh !! i was inspired by a lot of similar fics like this, but mostly by this WANDA FIC WRITTEN BY @/maximons - i suggest you give it a read BCS ITS SO GOOD ARRGH <3

you don’t know how the feud started between you and natasha. you couldn’t tell if it was because of your age or because you were new.

you had quite an age gap with the former assassin, being a striking 24 years old, but according to the russian - you might as well have been 12 years of age.

unlike most of the avengers, you had a decent childhood. it wasn’t filled with trauma, and death, and basically what some of them unfortunately went through. you grew up in the suburbs with your mum and two older siblings. you got all the toys you wanted and everyone loved you! because of that, you were always polite and cheery - it’s what made people like you. you were funny and usually managed to put a smile on people faces ; usually.

natasha found your positivity irking and unnatural. how could someone be so, happy? she felt as if you were shitting rainbows down her throat, and god, did she hate it. how could someone like you even have the guts to be an avenger?

she enjoyed picking fights with you out of nowhere, and as fun as it was at first - the hostility only progressed and became a disruption to the whole team, including you. you tried your best to really become friends with natasha - or at least be civil with her. but the more effort you made, the worse she treated you. all you wanted to do was make it a little easier for the team, you all have enough crap to put up with and the quarreling between the both of you was definitely not needed.

─── donk.

“nat! y/n! conference room one, now!” steve’s loud voice called out through the speakers placed throughout the compound.

you set your book aside before running down to the conference room as you were told. you walked passed natasha, already giving you a sharp glare from afar. she adjusted her speed and basically ran to where away from you. you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at her as you trailed behind.

you entered the room, greeting everyone politely before sitting down next to wanda, who saved a space for you.

“alright, now that we’re all here..” cap began, walking around the table where you were all sat. “we’ve got a mission for two of you,”

“did you call us here to compete for it? because i am so getting this mission.” natasha stated, pointing at everyone as if she was threatening them. “uh, no.. not exactly. we’ve already assigned the mission to two of you..”

“who?” she asked, wanting to leave the compound immediately and get some action (not the peepee way).

“you and y/n,”

hearing your name, you just froze. you couldn’t help but stare at steve as if he was out of his mind.

“what?!” natasha squeaked. “i’m sorry, but there is no way i’m going with her. it’s probably best if i go on my own!”

“that’s just mean..” you replied quietly, in your seat. you weren’t in the mood to argue, so you tried to contribute as little as possible into this conversation. “cap, if natasha doesn’t want to do the mission with me, i’m totally fine with sitting this one out.”

“oh, don’t suck up and use your y/n reverse psychology on this. it’s not gonna work,” she spat, obviously mad about the whole situation. “nat, i’m being serious. i know how much you’ve been dying to go out, so please. just take it.”

“no, y/n, you’re going with nat. we’ve decided this already.” steve stepped in, trying his best to set his foot down. “steve, i think you know this isn’t going to happen.” natasha glared.

“you either go together or y/n takes someone else.”

“steve! i swear i’m fine!” you argued, seeing how natasha’s ears were practically steaming from anger. “i-”

“no, you know what? fine. enjoy your mission, y/l/n.” she growled as she stormed out of the room. you couldn’t do anything but watch as she slammed the door shut. as much as you wanted to chase after her, you and everyone else in the room knew you’d probably make the situation a thousand times worse for natasha. you sighed and slammed your head on the table in exhaustion.

“we’re sorry, y/n. we thought her need for a mission would make her say yes even with the partnership.” bucky said from the other side of the room. your head shot up almost as quickly as you blinked. “what do you mean?”

“we thought sending you two on a mission together could… make the arguing stop - even by a little.” steve explained, sighing. you laughed at them, did they really think that would work? did they know the obstacles you went through to try to get on her good side? your first few weeks were HELL because of it.

“it’s alright.. clint? what do ya say?”

“always up for a mission, y/l/n.” he smiled, giving you a fistbump.

─── donk.

clint knocked on natasha’s door after the meeting. “nat? it’s me,” he called, nat opening the door a few seconds after.

“can you believe them? they know how much i dislike her and they’d send me on a mission with her? Bozhe mo! (oh my god!)”

“nat, y/n is awesome. it’s been months, it’s getting tiring.”

“oh, please. it took forever to get any of you guys to trust me. doesn’t mean it has to be the same with her.”

“nat, she’s a kid!”

“ugh, don’t say it like that. it makes my thoughts uneasy..” nat replied, mock-gagging. clint glared at her as he playfully shoved her. “you’re so stupid.”

“and oh, i’m going on the mission with her.”

“wait what?! but you’re my best friend, why would you take it!” she exclaimed. “i never say no to a mission, nat. you and i both know that. i thought you did, too.”

“i would’ve taken it, but.. no! i’m not losing this fight.” she huffed as she fell on the bed. “turn the tv on, i need to distract myself.”

he did as he was told and decided to stay and watch with her until dinner.

─── donk.

it was the day of your mission and you were making your way to the hangar. to your surprise, you saw natasha waiting there. you smiled at her only to receive another sharp glare. yeah, what a surprise. you looked away and decided to wait for clint.

not long after he arrived and said his goodbyes to natasha, just as you were going to aboard the ship, she grabbed your wrist and whispered in your ear.

“you’re gonna trip and get yourself shot, y/l/n.”

“what the hell? i’ve barely left and you’re already telling me i’m gonna fuck up?” you retorted, angrily. you weren’t in the right state to panic or stress. especially not before you were leaving. “have fun, y/n.” she smiled, dripping in faux kindness.

you followed clint onto the ship and couldn’t help but shake in fear. great, now you were worried. you didn’t want to fuck up. you weren’t planning to.

“you’ll be okay, y/l/n. i’ve got your back.” clint reassured, seeing the panic clouding on your face.

“thank you..” you mumbled, but natasha’s words never left your head.

─── donk.

“something seems off, clint.” you whispered, looking around and keeping your guard up. “i agree, y/l/n. it’s too quiet.. too easy.” he replied.

just as you were going to reply, someone charged at you from behind, getting a hold of your throat. by instinct, you kicked his shin and flipped him around. “clint!” you called out as you knocked your attacker out.

suddenly, groups of people were coming towards you - fully armed. “clint!” you screamed, pulling your gun out and shooting as many of them as you could. “shit!”

“y/n, it’s a trap!” clint finally replied, making you roll your eyes as you threw your fist at a guy’s temple. “yes, clint, i’m aware!”

“keep your guard up, y/l/n. you can do this!”

“there’s-” kick. “too many-” elbow. “of them!” shoot.

“try to hold out for as long as possible! i’m on my way,”

you looked up to see more men charging at you. “ah fuck,”

you grabbed one of the guns from the guys you managed to knock out and aimed. “clint, i can shoot right?” you asked for permission, not knowing if you were supposed to kill them or just simply knock them out.

“yes, y/n. you can shoot.”

“thank you!”

you silently thanked god for the gun you chose and started shooting at the guards. you quickly threw it away as they ran out of bullets and grabbed two pistols and continued to run and shoot away.

as you focused on getting a certain guard, one of them slid under you, quite literally slipping you off your feet - probably making you twist your ankle, giving one of them an opportunity to get a clean shot of your thigh.

the bullet went through your thigh, making you scream in pain. “fuck!” you shot back at him immediately and slid up onto the wall.

well great, another thing natasha was right about.

“y/n?!” clint called, hearing you scream. the worry in his voice was evident, it managed to make you smile for a second until you dodged another bullet.

“i’m okay!”

no, you weren’t. you could barely stand with your fucked up ankle and the hole in your thigh, but you continued to shoot and fight.

“just.. hurry up, please!”

you used your bad leg to kick a guy down and use him as a ledge. you cursed as you ran out of bullets. there were guns scattered across the floor, thanks to you. you just grabbed the nearest ones and looked back up.

as quickly as you did, a shot went through your shoulder and your abdomen. “gah fuck!” you collapsed on the floor as you tried to control the bleeding. you got up for a second to shoot back at the closest people and went back down. “clint, hurry up!” the pain was too much, the bleeding wouldn’t stop and your ankle looked like a fucking bean. you started to get nauseous, but tried your best to stay up.

“i’m here!” he yelled as he aimed at a few people in front of him. he ran towards you, finally seeing your state. “oh my god!” he kneeled down, putting pressure on your wounds to help with the bleeding, but the blood just kept seeping through “you just said you were okay, idiot!”

“i know, i didn’t want to worry you..” you mumbled. “no, no! y/n, you have to stay awake. come on!” he picked you up and started running away to go back to the ship. “you’re okay, y/n. tell me you’re okay right now.”

“i’m okay.. i’m okay, clint.”

“yeah, yeah, you are.”

you tried making it to the ship, but you were already so tired. “i’m gonna nap, clint..” you said before passing out.

─── donk.

clint alerted steve about you right when you passed out. they were rushing you out to the med bay to perform surgery on your injuries.

“she told me she was okay, steve. i thought she was okay!” clint screamed, he blamed himself for what happened to you. only if he arrived a few seconds before. you wouldn’t have been in the situation you’re in now.

“no, no. this isn’t your fault. neither is it hers, it happens, okay? we put ourselves at risk every time we step out of here. y/n was brave, alright?

wanda rushed down to the medbay, reaching for the door before pulling her back. “wanda, we have to let dr cho do her job right now. she’ll be okay.. y/n will be okay.”

she cried into steve’s shoulder - her best friend was being operated on. you were being operated on! the thought of you getting hurt never crossed her mind because she knew you were strong.

the team soon heard about the incident and let their worries out, obviously caring about you. natasha was confused about the whole hassle.

“vision!” she called out. he turned around and walked towards natasha. “how may i help you?”

“what’s the hassle about? everyone keeps whispering,”

“mr barton and ms y/l/n have returned from their mission, but ms y/l/n has suffered some major injuries and has been in surgery for about an hour now-”

hearing that, she sped to the medbay, thanking vision quickly. she saw wanda, steve and clint waiting around. “no, no, where is she?!” she yelled, making the three of them look at her in shock. “she’s still in-”

she tried running into the room like wanda did, getting pulled back by steve. “natasha, we have to let dr. cho do her job.”

“i need to see her!” she exclaimed, not being able to breathe. “what happened to her? what major injuries?!” she demanded.

“broken ankle, shot through her thigh, shoulder and abdomen..” clint recited, looking down at his feet. “where were you!? how could you let this happen?!” she roared, genuinely shocking them.

why did she suddenly care about you? well, yes, you suffered major injuries, but why was she getting mad?

“natasha! enough!” steve scolded. “this isn’t clint’s fault, and you know it.” he said, sternly. she didn’t reply as she panted. wanda held her hand as support, needing it for herself as well.

─── donk.

an hour later, dr. cho finally walked out of the room. everyone stood up in eagerness.

“is she okay?” steve asked, immediately.

“y/n suffered major blood loss, but we are lucky none of the three bullets hit any major arteries. she has also quite definitely broken her ankle, so i’m putting her on bedrest for at least 6 weeks until you get her up and going again.”

“main point, yes. y/n is okay.”

a smile broke out in all of their faces. “thank you, doc!”

“you may see her now, but she hasn’t woken up yet. don’t be too loud.”

they all walked into your room and stood beside your bed. “she looks so peaceful,”

“she definitely looks better right now than earlier,” clint joked, earning a soft laugh from the three of them. they stood by you for a while until natasha spoke up.

“um.. could- could i be the one who stays with her until she wakes up?”

they looked at the red head in surprise, “are you sure, nat?” steve asked.

“yeah.. i just want to be here.”

“alright,” they smiled softly at her before leaving.

she held your hand and stayed with you, waiting for you to wake up. it took for a while so she managed to fall asleep, holding your hand.

you slowly started coming back, groaning from the late pain you experienced. natasha jumped in shock and saw that you were awake.

“you’re awake!” she whispered, making you turn to her. “natasha? what’s happening?”

“you passed out during your mission. i know i told you you’d slip and get shot.. but i didn’t actually mean slip and get shot, idiot!” she scolded, flicking your forehead. “gah! it was an accident, i was doing fine,”

“no, you have three holes in your body. and not the good ones,”

“nat??” you replied, shocked. “did you just joke around with me?”

“no..”

“you’re holding my hand.. what did they bribe you with?” you asked, quickly getting suspicious. you tried pulling your hand away, but she only held onto you tighter. “nothing! i.. i volunteered. ask steve and wanda! and clint!” she replied, defending herself quickly.

“well, if you volunteered.. what do you want from me? i’m not gonna be leaving the compound for at least 2 months, so you can have all my missions-”

“no, y/n. truthfully, i just really want to apologize.”

“huh”

“i know i’ve made your first few weeks really hard and even after being here for months, i still managed to.. you know.. make it hard for you. in full honesty, i genuinely don’t know why i’ve been so horrible to you. i had a hard time opening up to people - and.. you were just so welcoming and i got scared. not an excuse for my actions, by the way! i was horrible and i’m so sorry.”

“thank you for your apology, i forgive you, nat.” you smiled, squeezing her hand. “i also.. have feelings for you.” natasha added, avoiding eye-contact with you. “you whAT?!”

“i-”

“i like you too! but are- are you serious?”

“yes, y/n… i like you. guess that’s why i was so defensive about.. literally everything.”

“nat.. thank you. for opening up to me. it genuinely means so much - especially after all this fucking time, you asshole.”

“are we okay now?” she asked, hopeful.

“yes, nat. we’re okay.”

[arrowflier]

Thank you for brightening my day with your stories. I always look forward to checking out your blog. Here's a prompt for you: S10 and 11, but Fiona is there and never left Chicago. How does the story change? Does she calm things down or cause more chaos? How does she get along with newer characters Tami (who she only knew a little) and Sandy? How does she react to Frank's dementia and death? Does she use her landlord skills and make Lip sign a damn lease before renting on a handshake deal?!

There's so much potential with this, but I just picked a few short scenes from season 11 to try and get a vibe!

--

“He can’t just kick you guys out,” Fiona insisted, following Lip through the house. He skirted the edge of the sofa on his way to the kitchen, and she almost ran into it. Only years of muscle memory and navigating her home in the dark—unpaid electric bills, drunken stupors, trying not to wake up the kids—kept her from banging her hip against the arm.

“He can,” Lip argued, passing through to the next room, “and he did.” He opened the fridge, looked at the beer cans inside. Closed it again, and got a glass of water from the tap instead.

“Sold it right out from under us,” he said bitterly into the glass. “New owners want us out before they close.

Fiona watched him take a sip, make a face and swallow it. Then she slapped the back of his head, hard, and grabbed the water before he could drop it.

“Listen to me,” she ordered as he scowled, rubbing the injury. She leaned down to get on the same level, face to disgruntled face. “I was a landlord, remember?”

“Not a very good one,” Lip muttered, and flinched back when she raised her hand again. She lowered it when he put his own up in surrender.

“I was a landlord,” she repeated, then paused, lips twisting. “And one of the reasons I’m not anymore is cause of a family of squatters I couldn’t get rid of.”

“And?” Lip asked, eyebrows raised. “The fuck’s that got to do with anything?”

Fiona rolled her eyes.

“Thought you were supposed to be the smart one,” she said dryly, then, “If it was that easy to kick somebody out, don’t you think I would’ve done it?”

Lip frowned.

“I mean, sure,” he said slowly, working through the thought. “But we don’t even have a lease.”

“Neither did they, that’s for damn sure,” Fiona grumbled. She turned to lean back against the counter next to him, shoulder to broad shoulder. Both had held enough wait for a lifetime.

“Doesn’t matter,” she told him. “That you don’t have a lease, I mean.”

She turned her head, looked at him.

“The eviction process isn’t as quick as people think.”

Lip’s brow furrowed as he glanced up at her.

“Are you…” Lip trailed off, started again. “Are you telling me to make him take us to court?”

Fiona smiled.

I’m telling you you might as well fight for it,” she said. “You’re broke anyway; what have you got to lose?”

---

“Can you believe her?” Debbie spit out, slamming the cabinet door shut. She stood, holding a box of cake mix, and set it down so hard on the counter that Fiona’s drink almost tipped over.

“Believe what?” Fiona asked, scooting back just in case. “That she left?”

Debbie glared.

“No, not that,” she said. “I told her to leave, remember?”

“What then?” Fiona took a sip of her beer, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the counter once she deemed it safe again.

“That she just abandoned her kid,” Debbie said. “Left him all alone, no mother, no nothing, just so she could go live a little.”

Oh. Fiona frowned.

“Debs…” she stared, swirling the dregs of beer left in the bottom of the bottle. She looked back up at her sister, down again to shield herself from the heat Debbie let off.

“I don’t think that’s what happened.”

“How can you say that?” Debbie asked, loud, angry. “You of all people know what it’s like to be…to be abandoned!”

Debbie bent down to grab a heavy metal bowl, slammed that down, too. The sound echoed, ringing through the quiet room. By the time it faded, she had too.

“It’s not the same, is it?” Debbie asked quietly, and Fiona shook her head.

“No,” she answered, just as soft. “No, it’s not.”

“Guess I should talk to her,” Debbie whispered, flat. Defeated.

“Probably,” Fiona agreed, then stood.

“Spend some time with Franny, first,” she suggested on her way toward the stairs, looking back in time to meet Debbie’s eyes as she lifted them.

“You’ve done a good job with her, you know,” Fiona said, and smiled. “I’m really proud of you”

And then she walked up the steps, and left Debbie to her thoughts.

---

“What—Mickey?” Fiona asked, passing her brother’s husband in the doorway. He was scowling, shoulders squared, stomping through the door and outside.

“You’re brother’s an asshole,” he answered shortly, and then he was gone.

Fiona watched him go. Then she went straight through the house, and out the back door, to where she knew Ian waited.

Sure enough, the door opened onto his stiff back, and she slipped out without a word. Sat down next to him, there on the stairs, and stole the cigarette from his hand.

“Thought you were trying to be healthier,” she asked, taking a long drag.

He reached for it, and she passed it back, their fingers brushing.

“Yeah, well,” he said, just staring at the glowing end of the stick. “Not much point in that if I can’t even afford to pay the bills next month.”

That again. Fiona sighed.

“We’ll be okay, you know,” she tried, but Ian waved her off before she could finish.

“We’d be better if he’d get a damn job.”

Fiona nodded.

“Sure,” she said, “we might be.” The filter of the cigarette was burning low, close to Ian’s fingers, so she took it again and threw it under her shoe.

“But are you willing to give everything up on a maybe?”

Ian looked at her.

“What do you mean?”

She shrugged, leaned into him. He was as tall as her, now, and her head slotted perfectly onto his shoulder.

“You’ve got the closest thing to happiness any of us have ever seen,” she said, looking out over the yard. She picked absently at the step she sat on, prying up thin splinters and smoothing them back down again.

“Maybe you should just let yourself have it, for a while.”

Ian was silent. But he reached an arm up around her back, let her in closer. Rested his chin on her head.

“You think so?” he finally asked, so quiet she barely heard it.

She rested a hand on his knee, squeezed it. Breathed out.

“I really do.”

---

“Oh my god, Liam, where have you been?”

Fiona was on him the moment he got through the door, long arms scooping him into a hug so tight she grunted with the effort.

“I was so worried,” she said, pulling back, hands gently but firm as they found his face. “You can’t just disappear like that, Liam, I sent everyone out to look for you hours ago!”

“You noticed?” Liam asked, his young face scrunched, and Fiona shook him, then folded him back into her arms.

“Of course I noticed, you little asshole,” she muttered into his hair, pressing her cheek against springy strands. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Liam shrugged, his shoulders barely moving in her tight embrace.

“Everybody is so busy,” he said. “Trying to figure stuff out.”

“So?” Fiona asked, still holding him, hands smoothing down the back of his hand-me-down shirt. “Why does that mean you get to wander off without telling me?”

“Gotta figure out my stuff too, don’t I?” he answered, quiet, sad, and Fiona let go of him to crouch down. She looked him in the eyes, brushing a hand over his soft hair, and forced him to meet her gaze.

“You’re a kid,” she said firmly. “What do you need to figure out that you can’t come to me for?”

“Where to live, for one,” Liam said, looking away, and Fiona frowned.

“What do you mean?” she asked. “You’ll come live with me.”

His eyes widened, and she hesitated.

“Do you…” She paused, swallowed. “Do you not want that?”

Liam just blinked. Then smiled, bright and relieved, and buried his head down on her shoulder in all the answer she needed.

---

“Hey, You okay?” Fiona asked, coming up behind Carl where he stood staring at Frank’s ashes on the mantel. She put a hand up on his shoulder, rubbed once, twice.

“Course I am,” Carl answered, all swagger and false confidence. “Frank was an asshole.”

Fiona hummed.

“He was,” she agreed. “But he was our asshole. And I know you two used to be close.”

“Nobody was close to Frank,” Carl muttered bitterly. “They just thought they were.”

A beat passed, tense, quiet. Then Carl’s shoulders sagged.

“Not like he was the same Frank anymore, anyway,” he said softly.

Fiona stepped closer, a warm presence at his side.

“Does that make it easier?” she asked. “Or harder?”

Carl shrugged.

“Neither, I don’t think,” he answered, then his face scrunched, the way it used to when his brothers made him think to hard. “Just feel like it’s wrong to still be mad at him, you know? He didn’t even remember all the shit he did, at the end.”

Fiona looked at him, and smiled sadly.

“That’s okay,” she said simply. “I’m still mad, too.”

After another moment, she leaned in, kissed the side of his head.

“Time to get to work though,” she said, “we can be as maudlin as you like when you get back.”

“What’s that mean?” Carl asked, following her into the kitchen, and she laughed as she dug his packed lunch out from the back of the fridge.

“I’ll tell you later,” she said, “but right now, work mister!”

Carl accepted the answer, and his lunch. Then, as Fiona grabbed her keys off the counter, the ones to her new SUV, he said, “I’m thinking of quitting, you know.”

Fiona didn’t hesitate, shoving him toward the door.

“That’s fine,” she said, slamming it shut behind them. “But until them, no brother of mine is going to be late!”

[leonicscorpio]

Batboy Headcanons because I made this for me but you all can enjoy this too if want. (May contain mild NSFW)

Dick:

Has a weird relationship with unwanted gaze and the attention he receives because of his physique. He genuinely likes the attention but he draws the line when people start getting touchy. Just because he's shirtless working out doesn't mean he gave you consent to touch him.

Has good dieting skills but he's in his mid-late 20's and his metabolism has 0 signs of slowing down. He once ate a whole xl bag of M&M's in front of Steph and Babs and both said they wanted to murder him because he won't gain a pound.

Dick has ADHD and I'm sorry if you don't think otherwise. He has hyperactive type ADHD and while he's gotten better at controlling his symptoms he still stims stretching and flexing his arms and shaking his arms.

While not so much in Gotham, Dick is very politically active and volunteers at voter registration and working with organizations with the mission of police demilitarization in Blüdhaven.

Dick is a very sexually driven individual. However, I don't think it's entirely healthy. His ADHD also comes into play with this but Dick just needs to have a release at least twice a day or he'll feel physically sick.

I don't know if you all have seen male gymnasts. But Dick, like the rest of them, has FREAKSISHLY large biceps. Everyone talks about Dick has the best ass in the bat family and while Jason may be larger and stronger, Dick has the best physique.

Dick's apartment is littered with sticky notes in places such as the fridge/in front of his computer. If it's not written down and in a place where he can't ignore it, it's not going to get done.

I'm sorry I know everyone says his birthday is in March but I have to go to the older Nightwing comics and say his Birthday is December 1st. I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me this man doesn't give off Sagittarius energy. You can't. I respect you but you can't look at that and tell me that man isn't a Sagittarius or has super heavy Sag in his birth chart.

Dick's at home doing nothing but chilling? You best believe he's gonna be shirts off, tits out, and rocking some blue flannel PJ's.

Dick is currently the only member of the family asides from Barbara who is regularly attending therapy. And he actively encourages each of his brothers and sisters to go every time.

After his Agent 37 days. He sits down with Jason and talks about having to use a gun and how hard it was. And how having to kill people has affected him. When he had to kill the KGBeast (Agent 37 days he snapped his neck) I headcanon Dick just trauma v*mit*d. Jason hugged him and just consoled him.

It's canon that Dick has anger issues but to me, it's not explored or talked about enough and not a lot of people like to talk about it. Dick is very much the 'if I ignore it it'll go away' type when it comes to his anger and he can brush most insults or harassment off fine enough. But when he breaks, he makes Jason look like a saint. I'm talking slamming you into a wall and screaming in your face angry. He'll be profusely apologetic afterward but still.

Despite popular belief, I don't think he's that bad of a cook. He's just not very experimentative. He can follow a recipe and does look at some guides. But to me, Dick Grayson just is that guy who is like Chicken veggies and rice are a meal that I can cook 4-6 times a week.

Dick has a slight fear of dentists. He doesn't have bad teeth and has good dental health. He just doesn't like the idea of a drill going in his mouth and the few times Bruce has to take him to a dentist he had a panic attack every time.

Everyone lives for the fics where Jason beats the shit out of Tim and everyone is just like lol well Bruce and Dick just forgives him. No. When Dick found out it was Jason who beat Tim to the ground, Dick was literally seething and told Jason "Pick on someone your own size or else I'll make you wish you back in that f'ing coffin."

Dick's favorite foods (some based in Canon*): Milk Chocolate*, Cereal*, Asparagus, Bananas, Banana flavored candy, Hawaiian Pizza* (suffer its canon) Rum, thanksgiving Turkey.

Jason:

He may be the self-diagnosed black sheep (rightfully so) of the family, but Jason does genuinely love spending time with his siblings. Whether it be sharing memes with them on social media or just randomly showing up where they are and abducting them to go get ice cream/coffee/snacks.

He'd probably attempt to harm you if you told him this to his face. But he is the closest acting to Bruce out of all of the family. In terms of mannerisms and inherent warmth and kindness behind a dark façade.

Has two moods: either exceptionally, almost neat-freak levels of clean, or his life is completely falling apart and Jason can't tell you for sure what color his floors are because there's so much stuff scattered about.

Despite their initial hatred of each other, Jason truly feels closest to Tim and Tim is the only person asides from maybe Barbra who he can just talk to without feeling any judgment.

Jason only smokes when he's extremely nervous about an operation or a hit. For those who don't know criminal justice cigarettes are the fastest way to get genetic material on someone. That being said he does still like to smoke occasionally.

Me, plus a lot of people give him this sort of 'Lazarus Rage' as I like to call it. When he's in the heat of a mission or if he's getting upset/angry his vision will get blurred with green, and it feeds on his anger and just gets perpetually harder to contain until he releases it. Jason has gotten much better at controlling it. But as he will tell Tim or Babs, he's "seeing green" which means they need to be careful because Jason could kill.

Everyone says Dick is the mother hen. I see you, I accept you, but let me raise you. Jason came to realize that he died because of his rash decision to go after The Joker alone. If Jason finds any of his siblings out acting alone, or even at the very least without Oracle. Jason WILL forcefully interject himself and ask them what the fuck they think their doing.

I've said it before and I'll say it again. Trying to get close to Jason is hard. He will degrade you can attempt to try to get you to hate him before he lets you in (that cheeky Tsun of him)

He genuinely cares for and supports all of his siblings but has been rough on them needlessly. But if Bruce is being the distant or absent parent he is, you better believe if any of the siblings drops him a text or a call, Jason will be there in a heartbeat.

He's the most physically powerful of the whole Bat Family. You don't understand because of his time in the League, his time with the All-Caste, and having abused Venom for a time, he can snap an arm bone like it's a carrot with little effort.

Everyone in the family likes dogs and goes out of their way to gush over a dog, but Jason takes it to a whole new level. And even when he's masked up dogs just gravitate to Jason.

Can and has grown a beard in a matter of a few days. He usually likes to be clean shaven but some days he likes to wear a beard just to throw everyone off.

One time him, Steph, Tim, and Duke all went to a restaurant (Red Robin lol) and the waitress got his order wrong and his burger had raw tomatoes on it, Jason took the tomatoes off and ate it while looking absolutely miserable. Tim: Jay why did you eat that you didn't have to you know you could have asked the server to fix your burger. Jason, almost in tears: "She works really hard and she tried and I'm a scary dude I don't want to make her upset.." Duke: "... Jason you literally shot at a cop for looking at you funny the other day. But you're afraid of upsetting a waitress?!? I mean ACAB but dude.. "

Jason's happiest big brother moment™ was taking Tim and Damian to the shooting range and watching them both get their first bullseye.

You can't tell me Jason Todd was into the Emo/Screamo/Warped-Tour Scene. His favorite bands/Albums in no particular order, That's the Spirit (Literally the whole album is Jason Themed and I'm gonna die on this hill) & Sempiternal by Bring me the Horizon, Digital Renegade & Everyone's Safe in the Treehouse by I See Stars, The Resistance: Rise of the Runaways by Crown the Empire,

Jason Todd's favorite foods: (Also some based in Canon*) Burgers, Chili Dogs*, Lager-style beers, Freshly baked bread*, Neopolitan ice cream, grilled corn, and Chinese Chicken noodle soup with Duck.

Tim:

This boy *slaps car roof* gives off so much asexual energy. I know New 52 exists but I just feel like Tim is the person who really, REALLY has to trust you and like you before he's sexually active with you.

HYPERFIXATES. You also can't tell me Tim isn't on the spectrum/or has ADHD.

Is the only member of the family who regularly checks up on Jason and talks to him every day via text message. The two are memelords together and love to play pranks on the other members.

While Dick may give the most frequent hugs and Jason gives the tightest, most secure hugs, Tim's hugs are always the warmest and make you just feel good.

Tim's birthday is July 19th. Meaning he's a Cancer. Let that sink in.. no, really let that information just soak. (Note I have nothing against Cancer women, cancer men however....)

All of the bat boys really struggle with talking about their feelings. Dick will manipulate you into changing the subject via twisting it to be about you, Jason will just cut you off or will ignore you, Damian will deflect everything and harass you until you stop, Tim however, Tim is very emotional and while he's very calculated about who he's emotional with, he's not afraid to break down and cry if he trusts you.

Everyone who says he's the level headed Robin haha how's it feel to be WRONG. Tim is at best the least functional college student and at worst a lemming. 'No Tim, coffee isn't a meal I'm going to make you some food or I'm going to stick you in a room with Damian for an hour.' Richard (Dick) John Grayson.

People overblow how addicted to caffeine Tim is. But it's true. Just overblown. You can talk to him before he's had his caffeine just don't expect him to be anything but curt and blunt.

Everyone says Jason would be the worst at texting but it's Tim. He's the master of leaving you on read. While Jason may do it on purpose, Tim is just really bad at texting people and while he always will read your messages he forgets to respond unless it's really funny or really pressing.

Everyone sees Tim as this bean pole super skinny boy Robin. Tim may not be stacked like Dick or a freaking tank like Jason, but Tim is NOT super skinny. He's just as muscular and likes to work out as anyone, but he just is super lean, so he looks a lot bigger and his muscles are more defined because of how thin his skin is. He has those almost disgusting spider veins on his arm. Kind of gross to look at, but he's the dream of any nurse. This means Tim is also the king of accidentally sending/posting thirst traps.

He really is the glue of the Bat Family. Everyone kidnaps Tim for 'Tim Time'.

Dick likes to spar with and in general just hang out with Tim. Tim tried to teach Dick how to skateboard and you'd think the boy who mastered the trapeze would know how to skateboard but you'd be wrong.

Babs and Tim always hang out and talk about computer stuff and Babs knows she can vent to Tim about anything and he won't say a word.

Tim and Steph were a thing for a while and even though they're just friends now, they still are very close and the two have a very deep bond, liking to shop with each other and watch movies,

Cass just loves to be around Tim because of how calming he is but also she knows she can spar with him AND Cass can also skateboard with Tim too.

Even though him and Damian are always fighting, the two still end up being together and have this unspoken bond. They work great together on a team but other than that they still hate each other.

And while everyone still is hesitant around Jason, and despite the fact that Jason literally beat Tim to within an inch of his life, AND would still trigger Tim and taunt him about it. The two have this odd closeness that rivals even him and Steph. Tim will always be the first to bat for Jason. Jason was Tim's Robin. And despite the fact Jason literally beat it into Tim's head to "never meet your heroes." Tim will always be there for Jason should he ask. The two are just close. And it's hard to describe. Bruce has caught Tim and Jason just platonically sleeping next to each other or just doing their own things shoulder to shoulder silently, just enjoying each other's company.

Tim and Duke also have a really positive relationship with one another and the two can stay up all night just talking about anything. Their minds just mesh well together. The two also love to team up and prank the other members of the Batman Family.

Tim's favorite ASMR/Stim? Watching those Tik Toks of people cleaning computers or cleaning phones. The sound of an air duster is like music to his ears and if any of the Bats need their technology cleaned it secretly makes Tim so happy to help them.

Wear his hair up or wear his hair down? It depends! While Tim likes his long hair he also has gotten plenty of compliments for his short hair and likes to style it to suit any occasion.

My one pet-peeve with Tim is that he probably is that person who lets his privilege show from time to time. While he was essentially raised to just sit down, shut up, and be a perfect trophy son to the Drake's. The Drake's were in the same tax bracket as Bruce and Tim definitely was a rich kid. He never means to come across as spoiled, but sometimes Jason will give him harsh looks if Tim just throws away food he doesn't like or says things like Chipotle is 'poor people food'

Tim Drake's favorite foods (you know by now*) Donuts*, Shallot and Artichoke Pizza with Canadian Bacon* (odd choice but it could work) Artichokes in general are his favorite vegetable, Strawberries, and Beef Pho.

Damian:

I headcanon that he has the worst teeth of all of the Bat Boys and he actually has to use lingual braces. (Hence why you can't see his braces)

Canonically is a very good artist and while him and Tim don't get along, Tim introduced Damian to digital art and gave him a photoshop pack and a nice tablet for his birthday one year and Damian loved it so much.

Damian is a capricorn and I will die on this hill. A January capricorn too.

Now you want a good chef? You've got Damian. Having converted to veganism Damian has had to get creative whenever he goes out to eat so he tends to like to eat more home cooked foods. Damian loves all matters of mushrooms, eggplant, and bell peppers.

Damian really struggles the most with his wanting to just be a normal kid. Despite the fact he will dismiss you for it, anytime he gets to spend at Gotham Academy with Jon and the rest of the kids he's naturally the happiest.

Damian LOVES to give gifts. He loves the look on people's faces when they are shocked when they actually get something from Damian.

Despite the fact that he's been traumatized from both his times with Ra's and Talia as well as with Bruce. He just wants Bruce and Talia to be together because he loves them both equally.

While he's the least flexible and least gymnastic of the Robins do let your guard down around him. He is the fastest runner and the guy is rivaled only by Jason in terms of lethality.

So someone (Jason Todd & Duke Thomas) introduced Damian to trap music and ever since anytime his phone gets stolen people will be shocked to find he's listening to some combination of Lil' Yachty, X, Kendrick Lamar, Wiz, and Kodak.

If any random person tries to hug Damian he'll immediately push them away, he'll bitch and moan about just about anyone hugging him other than Bruce & Dick.

Damian loves to go to the beach/the ocean. He just thinks it's so vast and he loves the brineness of the air. Also being half white, quarter middle-eastern and quarter Chinese (Yes everyone forgets Talia is half Chinese) Damian gets DARK. And although he's just okay as a swimmer he still likes bogeyboarding and eventually wants to learn how to surf.

I'm genuinely afraid once Puberty is done with this kid and everyone in the family is. He has Bruce Wayne AND Talia Al-Ghouls genes and those are two SEXY human beings. Damian's gonna grow a beard one day and people aren't going to know how to act.

Damian secretly plays Fortnight and not even Jon knows. He doesn't want to get shamed. He'd rather lose a match and ruin his streaks than deal with the shame of anyone in that family finding out he plays Fortnight.

Damian Wayne's favorite foods (canon*) Cereal*, Avocados, Grilled Tempeh, his mom's Tabbouleh, Mushroom Tacos, and Vegan Sushi rolls, and grape juice.

Duke Thomas

Duke is like, freakishly good with a piano, and he picked it up naturally!

Also everyone says Tim brews the best pot of coffee in the Bat Family, cue to everyone's surprise when Tim was sick one day and couldn't make a pot. Only to find the coffee was freaking amazing. Duke didn't take any credit at first until Alfred let it slip that Duke was the one who brewed the pot.

Duke being the only Meta of the family originally thought he was the double-token because he was a Meta and a black boy. Needless to say his fears were seriously unfounded the moment he got to know everyone.

Although he somewhat fears Jason and his temper initially, he and Jason have one of the closest relationships in the family. If Tim isn't around to bat for Jason, Duke will happily take his spot. The two work on each other's bikes and grew to share the same taste in music.

Duke uses his Photokenetic powers as a force for good and for shenanigans. Jason wants to play a prank on Dick and Damian while Dick is reading Damian a story? Duke will hide Jason in the shadows and will cover up his shadow. Alfred dropped something in the dark? You better believe Duke will find it in 3 seconds or less.

Duke makes it a point to visit his parents every weekend to talk to them. Although they are making some progress in their recoveries, it's still slow going. Eventually, he starts bringing members of the family to see his parents. It started with Cass, then Jason, and the rest followed suit.

Duke loves playing video games with Damian and even helps Damian beat some tougher levels when Damian is about to rage and destroy the console.

Duke is into Magic the Gathering and you cannot tell me otherwise. Duke also is the DM for the Bat Kids annual D&D games. I can and will make a D&D Batfam Headcanons if asked.

Loves Pho just as much as Cass and Tim and they all call it a date night every now and then where they can go to a hole in the wall pho place. It's really a secret between the three of them.

DUKE THOMAS IS THE BEST SWIMMER OF THE BAT BOYS AND I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL. HE JUST THRIVES IN THE WATER.

Finding out his birth father is a supervillain was really tough for him. He went into a shell for a little bit afterwards. Cass and Steph were there to help talk him out of his funk.

Duke Thomas's favorite foods (lol what canon DC hasn't acknowleged our boy in a while..) Chicken Pho, Thai Iced Tea, Papaya, Crab Cakes, Italian Hoagies, his mom's Lemon Poundcake, mint chocolate chip ice cream.

I hope y'all enjoyed! Up next (eventually) will be the Bat Girls!

[supersilversleuth]

Your Words Aren’t Real (So Why Do They Hurt So Much?) by SuperSilverSpy

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Fandoms: DCU, DCU (Comics), Batman - All Media Types Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Dick Grayson & Batfamily members, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Stephanie Brown, Dick Grayson & Tim Drake, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne, Stephanie Brown, Tim Drake, Hurt Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson-centric, Dick Grayson Whump, Whump, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, I seem to be doing a lot of that these days…, Whumptober 2021, Mind Control, fear toxin, Hallucinations, anyway, Angst, SuperSilverSpy, SilverGrayson, SilverWhump, Taunting, Insults, ”who did this to you?”

Summary:

“Sometimes I wish you were my father, but I know you could never be. Bruce will always be my real father. You were just an inadequate stand-in.”

Dick choked, barely noticing the swift kick to his ribs before he was already stumbling back, ducking around Steph’s fist as he fought to regain his balance.

“You were a terrible brother,” said the voices of Jason and Tim. “All you ever did with me was make mistakes.”

OR Mind Control with a heaping of Angst

No. 3 - STICKS AND STONES MAY BREAK MY BONES BUT… taunting | insults | “Who did this to you?”

Series:

Part 3 of 2021 Most Whumperful Time of the Year - Dick Grayson-centric

Language: English Words: 1,645 Chapters: 1/1

Nightwing awoke in a warehouse, surrounded by Batman, Red Hood, Robin, Spoiler, and Red Robin. They were all passed out on the ground, strange devices wrapped around their heads. They seemed relatively unharmed, not a bruise or laceration or twisted limb in sight.  He sighed in relief.

Looking around, Dick noted the absence of visible hostiles. He turned to Robin, who was closest to him and inspected the device around boy’s head; whatever it was, it couldn’t be good.  He felt along the smooth metal, searching (or feeling) for a way to remove it.

A moment later, several ding! sounds echoed in the warehouse, emitting from the head devices. Damian’s eyes opened, glowing a vibrant yellow. Dick backed up as the rest of his family began to rise around him. He knew mind control when he saw it, though that didn’t stop him from asking, “Uh…guys? You still in there?”

Their faces remained  expressionless as they turned threateningly towards him.

“Guess not,” he answered himself. “Looks like it’s just another exciting day in the life of the great and eternally stressed out Nightwing.”

He’d probably have to come up with yet another insightful and compelling speech to snap them out of it, par for the course for him at this point. Oh but how he wished it wasn’t. Every single time somebody in his family got brainwashed, or mind-controlled, or possessed (all of which happened way more often than it should), he was pretty much always the one to talk them down, or get beaten up and nearly killed for his efforts. It had reached a point where he wondered if Bruce was actively trying to get one of Dick’s siblings to accidentally kill him.

Well, at least one thing was different this time—he was facing off against five family members at once, instead of one, or two, or his entire f***ing team. But that was a story for another day.

Maybe, he could actually fight close to his full capability against them, without too much fear of hurting them. He didn’t have to knock them out or sedate them after all, he just needed to damage those device things around their heads.

Hood lunged at him first, guns drawn. Dick dodged, wrenching one of the man’s guns away with a grunt. He threw it across the room, knowing it did nothing for him in close quarters combat wherein he was attempting not to hurt, kill, or maim any of his would-be killers. There was no time for him to contemplate Jason’s likely reaction to the discovery of his ruined gun that would surely come later. Batman was already springing into action, fists swinging through the air in an unnaturally aimed-to-kill way.

Dick flipped around, dodging attacks from the two. He needed to bide his time, wait for the right opportunity to strike. He tried to electrocute them to short-circuit their metal head-band device things, but it didn’t really seem to do anything. He did, however, manage to get in a good hit to Jason’s head, which disoriented the man—and likely the person in control of him. Bruce went down next, Dick slipping the man’s belt out from around his waist in a move no one else in the world knew, and throwing a flash bomb in his face.

Pocketting what he could from the belt before tossing that too away (the emergency beacon didn’t work), he turned to face his new opponents. Spoiler and Robin, the short little duo wreaking havoc to his right, with Bruce and Jason getting back up on his left.

Whoever was controlling his family wasn’t the best at it, though forcing them to attempt murder against their own instincts was a feat in itself.

“You failed me,” said two very familiar voices in unison. It was Bruce and Damian.

Dick was so startled he almost didn’t manage to dodge the sneak attack Red Robin was attempting from behind.

“You failed the mission, our mission, you’ve failed the family I’ve given you, and the city I put in your responsibility.” It was just Bruce now, speaking blankly, words flowing out with no restraint.

Dick swallowed, but forced himself to ignore the man, ignore the words. It was probably just a program to detect negative emotion associated with thoughts of Nightwing and force the mind-controlled victim to...to say the thoughts out loud. Logically, he knew this.

Logic couldn’t prepare him for what came next.

“Sometimes I wish you were my father, but I know you could never be. Bruce will always be my real father. You were just an inadequate stand-in.”

Dick choked, barely noticing the swift kick to his ribs before he was already stumbling back, ducking around Steph’s fist as he fought to regain his balance.

“You were a terrible brother,” said the voices of Jason and Tim. “All you ever did with me was make mistakes.”

His vision had blurred at some point in time, he wasn’t sure when. A fist slammed into his jaw, a bow staff swiped at his feet. Purple flashed in the corner of his vision as his wrist was brutally snapped. Dick opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“They say never meet your heroes. I guess they were right then, hmmm? Except you were never my hero, and yet you still managed to disappoint me anyway.” Steph’s tone was sharp and biting as she jammed a shuriken into his shoulder.

Dick pushed her away, doing a messy backflip to land on Bruce, using what little momentum he had to push off towards Jason, tackling him for the umpteenth time.

“You were unfit to be a mentor, just look at you now. And the students become the masters…” said the scathing voices of Dami, Steph, and Tim. Laughter echoed in his ears, sounding cruelly amused. No, this wasn’t them, they would never say such things…

“Oh it’s all true,” said a voice from behind him, Jay’s voice. “What is it, Goldie, can’t handle the pressure?”

Dick tried in vain to block the voices out, focusing just long enough to knock the device around Tim’s head askew.

The boy fell to the ground, reality mixing with fantasy as Tim’s eyes looked up at him, cold and lifeless, as blood pooled around Tim’s twisted body, as if he’d fallen… Corpse-pale lips parted, harsh words spilling out onto unforgiving ground, “You think I’m just like you, but you’re wrong. I’m better. You couldn’t beat me if you tried. I’m too pure, somehow untainted by your doomed soul, even after all this time.”

Crazed laughter echoed in Dick’s ears, even as he blinked and saw Tim as he actually was, lying unconscious—and alive, on the ground.

“Look at that, failing to protect those you love most? You’re worthless to them, and to me. I should never have taken you in.” The words were growled in a familiar deep register, and yet...the tone was unusually cruel—

Dick found himself sprawled on the ground, back still smarting from where he’d been kicked. He struggled to his good hand and knees, only to hear the sound of a gun cocking. He looked up. Jason stood above him, Steph and Damian on either side.

“Tt, Grayson, always so pathetic.” For a moment, Dami seemed to be wearing an older version of his uniform, from when he was still Dick’s Robin…

Steph tossed her hair back, giggling, and Dick saw her in a different costume, that of Robin, and then it changed to Batgirl. Gah, he was so confused.

She wasn’t. “You’re not going to make it this time around. How does it feel knowing we’d all be glad? You’ve hurt us more than helped us, Dick. It’s time you’ve faced that fact.”

Jason smirked down at him. “Any last words? We all know you don’t deserve them, but, well,” he smirked, “I’m feeling charitable today.”

Dick lunged upward, body tensed as if to tackle, arms outstretched as if to hug. Dick himself wasn’t quite sure what it was meant to be, what he wanted anymore…

Bang!

The gun went off, bullet burying itself in Dick’s side.

Three pairs of feet began to kick at his prone body from all sides. He curled in on himself, clutching desperately at the bullet wound, mind hazy with blood loss and something...else… A scraping noise, close to his ear. Dick barely registered it through the pain of the systematic blows raining down. Another pair of feet entered his vision, Bruce’s Batman boots. Dick panicked, using one hand to staunch the blood flow while the other went to his neck, to where he instinctively knew the real problem was. There was a device, attached to his neck, like a mini version of what the others had, but missing a few parts. He yanked it off, and immediately, he heard the thumps of his hopefully just unconscious family members falling to the ground.

Dick squinted at the device, as he felt himself joining them in the land of darkness. A familiar scarecrow label stared back at him, Jervis Tetch craftsmanship was practically written all over the thing as well…

—

Jason woke, groggy and disoriented. He found himself amongst other bats, all lying on the floor in a circle like some kind of crazy sorcerer spell gone wrong. The others were slowly waking, blinking and shaking their heads as if to clear the fog away. And in the middle of it all, at the center of their little coming-back-to-the-land-of-the-living circle, lay Dick Grayson, covered in blood, close to passing out.

The guy was nearly unrecognizable, but Jason would recognize that ridiculous hairstyle anywhere. Scrambling over to his brother’s side, Jason ignored the way the room spun, placing a hand on Dick’s shoulder and looking down at the man, brow pinched in concern.

“Dickie?” he asked, “Who did this to you?”

[leon-scott-kennedy]

Distrail

Chreon, Rated-T

Read on Ao3

For a price, anyone could check into a seedy motel, even three people covered in blood, guts, and grime, no questions asked, especially with the ashes of Raccoon City still cooling 100 miles away. So the horizon still held a faint glow of destruction when Leon and Claire stumbled, barely conscious, through the front door of the Tadpole motel at 2 PM October 1st, using each other as support and Sherry clinging to Leon’s back like a koala if a koala drooled and snored.

Two other motels along the highway turned the odd couple away, rumours already flying about Raccoon City, zombies, and a nuclear cover-up. But at the right price, triple the going rate, Claire managed to convince the manager to let them bunk down, courtesy of Leon’s stressed credit card.

The fact Leon’s credit card worked, or that he even still had his credit card, was a miracle. His wallet hadn’t exactly been a priority, and honestly, they could sleep in a cockroach-infested basement, and Leon would be happy because they were dead on their feet after hiking on foot what Leon estimated to be a good 30 miles of rough terrain to get to the nearest town. The sun barely peeked over the horizon when the sky behind them exploded.

Raccoon City was gone. The people Leon had sworn to defend were gone. Sherry and Claire were all he managed to protect, and he’d be damned if he failed now.

The motel room wasn’t terrible; two double beds, a small tube TV, and a leaky faucet. It wasn’t good, but it wasn’t something out of a horrible nightmare. They’d left that behind them.

“I’m glad we don’t have a blacklight,” Claire joked, but her tone fell flat.

Leon nudged the bed farthest from the door suspiciously with his boot, dragged back the yellow duvet, and inspected the mattress before he lay Sherry down and tucked her in. He even let Claire shower first, insisted, while he watched Sherry sleep, tossing and turning and whimpering from reliving the horrors in her dreams until Claire emerged from the bathroom, hair still damp, and crawled into bed beside Sherry.

By the time Leon scrubbed his skin raw, the water was cold, and Claire had passed out cold with Sherry cuddled up beside her, little hand tangled in the front of Claire’s dirty tank top like a lifeline. Leon passed out face first on the other bed. He couldn’t even muster the energy to get under the covers.

Movement woke Leon. He jolted awake, reaching for his gun on the bedside table, only to find Claire, fully dressed, perched on the end of his bed and tugging one of her boots. She smiled sadly at the gun levelled at her head.

Leon lowered Matilda, gasping for air. His arm fell limply to his side. “Claire?”

“Hey.” Claire pulled on her second boot. “Sorry.”

Leon blinked at the sleep crusting his eyes. “What... what are you doing?”

Claire sighed and set her foot back down solidly on the ground, hands grasping her thighs. “I need to find Chris. I need... I need to know he’s okay.”

“Now?” Leon glanced at the clock. The bright red numbers read 7:46. The setting sun outside glowed faintly behind the curtains.

“If you ever need me...”

“Forget me. What about Sherry?” Leon snapped, somewhat mollified when Claire winced.

“I know you’ll take good care of her.” Claire’s attention briefly snapped to the sleeping 12-year-old that had survived literal hell. “Leon... if I didn’t have to.”

“Yeah. Yeah, whatever,” Leon scoffed, then rolled over. His heart thundered in his chest. He heard Claire briefly wake up Sherry to say goodbye, promising they’d be in touch, that if Sherry ever needed her, all she needed to do was call.

The door creaked open. Leon clenched his eyes shut, willing down the panic swelling in his chest until it ached. This was it. He was all Sherry had left. They were on their own.

“Take care of our girl for me.” Claire’s voice was barely a whisper.

Leon’s hands trembled, buried in the sheets and pillows, he struggled to suck down air, and his hearing fuzzed. Claire was gone.

For hours, Leon faded in and out of consciousness, barely able to keep the crush of dread at bay. Finally, at some point around 3 AM, he gave up all pretense to sleep and kept a vigilant guard. He jumped at a car alarm, tensed at the slam of a door, and clenched Matilda tightly when soft footfalls passed their door. Eventually, Sherry climbed into his bed to watch early morning cartoons with him.

“Is Claire going to be okay?” Sherry asked softly. She hugged Leon’s arm, cuddling into his side like he used to with his grandma.

“Yeah. Don’t worry about her,” Leon said. He slumped to the side, gently resting his head on top of Sherry’s. “She’ll be fine, kiddo.”

When the sun rose, Leon and Sherry trekked down to the front office to extend their stay another night, then hiked into town searching for clothes and sustenance. Being out in public, surrounded by people, set both Leon and Sherry on edge. They jumped at the slightest sound, and Sherry refused to release Leon’s hand for anything less than going to the bathroom, and even then, he had to stand guard outside the stall. Thank god he had pissed before they left the motel because Sherry was clinging to the back of his jacket while he tried seemed ridiculous.

Their shopping trip was quick. They grabbed what they could, Sherry setting a brisk pace through the little thrift store they found, dragging Leon from rack to rack. They scrounged up a few changes of clothes, socks, underwear, which Leon was a little uncertain of, a jacket that fits over his side holster since he had a license to carry, and a backpack that they filled with snacks and a deck of cards from a little corner store. It turns out Leon’s palette was similar to a twelve-year-old.

The tenuous credit limit finally crapped out on Leon when he tried to buy a six-pack at a shady liquor store on the way back to the motel.

“No job. No money. Just great,” Leon sighed.

For the rest of the day, they holed up in their room munching on junk food, watching terrible daytime TV, and playing Go Fish until Leon made the brilliant decision to teach Sherry how to play poker, and she fleeced him for all the Cheetos.

Leon had no plan beyond survive, and he hadn’t even planned for that. His body ached from being tossed by mutated monsters and shot. His wrapped shoulder twinged.

“Shit,” Leon cursed and clutched his wound. They needed help. He needed help. Taking care of a kid without any resources would be impossible; never mind, he’d never taken care of a person in his life. He had no siblings, no parents. His grandma died when he was nine.

Leon smiled at Sherry in reassurance when she questioned him. This little girl couldn’t be another statistic of the system. He could fix that. He would fix that.

Covered in orange Cheeto dust, Sherry crashed around 8 in the evening. The glow of the sun behind the curtain reminded Leon of the mushroom cloud that had enveloped the sky 36 hours ago. Leon’s stomach twisted in knots. Every creak, every thump, every squeaky break, Leon tensed, waiting for something to crash through the door and disrupt the precarious peace.

Leon hunkered down on his bed, the one closest to the door and any potential threat that came for them, and prepared for another sleepless night on edge.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Around one in the morning, his eyes beginning to droop, Leon nearly fell off the bed in his mad scramble for his gun when someone knocked heavily on the door. Checking his clip, Leon cautiously crept to the door, motioning for now very awake Sherry to stay out of sight.

“Who is it,” Leon called.

“Hi. Look, I’m sorry to bother you. My name is Chris Redfield. I’m looking for my sister Claire.”

Leon blinked and glanced back at Sherry, whose head had popped out of the blanket at the sound of Claire’s name. Then, double-checking he had bolted the chain, Leon opened the door a crack to peek out.

A man a little taller than Leon stood under the flickering light outside the door, his hair cut short and a 5 o’clock shadow. Chris Redfield, decorated member of the Racoon City Stars Division. Leon recognized him from the old photo Claire had shown him, but also the records he’d run across during his frantic hunt through the Police Department.

“Chris?” Leon said, astonished it was actually him. He slammed the door, unbolted the chain, and flung the door open again. “What the- Claire’s looking for you. What are you doing here?”

Chris, who eyed the gun uncertainly, brightened at the mention of his sister. “Is she here? The manager at the front recognized her. Said she was here with some guy and a kid.” Chris glanced past Leon into the room to Sherry curled up in the other bed peering out with curious fear from under the blankets.

Leon shook his head, eyes scanning the parking lot. “She’s not here. She left this morning to find you.”

“Fuck.” Chris winced and glanced at Sherry again. “Shit, sorry.”

Sherry giggled into her hands, and Leon rolled his eyes. “I think she’s dealt with worse.” Like the apocalypse.

“But she’s okay. She’s alive?” Chris asked.

“Who? Claire? Yeah. Yeah, she’s fine. Saved my ass more than a few times.” Leon smiled wistfully and then frowned. So Claire had left, and now, here, her brother was trying to track her down. It must be nice to have someone that gave a damn about you.

“Oh, thank god.” Then, finally, all the tension and stiffness in Chris’ posture melted. “I got her message, and...”

Leon scanned the dark parking lot again for any sign of life, then gestured into the motel room. “You should come in.”

“No.” Chris waved off the invitation. “No, I need to find her.” But the fatigue in his voice threatened to topple him, and that would definitely fell Leon if he tried to catch him.

“Dude, you’re dead on your feet,” Leon said. “It’s the middle of the night. Crash for a few hours.”

“Yeah!” Sherry chimed in, bouncing on her bed. “Stay!”

Chris shook his head. “I can’t.”

Leon pursed his lips. “Look, I don’t know you, man. But I do know that if you pass out behind the wheel and wrap yourself around a pole, you’re pretty damn useless to her.”

Chris opened his mouth to argue, and Leon sighed, tilting his head to the side, ready to give up when Chris snapped his mouth closed and cleared his throat. He studied Leon closely, scrutinizing him like he would a suspect, but Chris must have been satisfied with what he found - weakness, terror, immaturity - because he finally said, “just a few hours.” And the anxiety squeezing the life out of Leon eased, just a tiny bit. Enough that he could breathe.

Chris excused himself to run and grab his go-bag, and Leon cursed his stupidity because nothing was stopping Chris from running. That tightness immediately returned, but a few minutes later, another sharp knock sounded at the door.

Leon smiled tiredly and welcomed Chris into the room, relieved to have the company, someone who knew what they were doing; an adult. Leon grew up fast, but he’d never been an adult in his life. Racoon City was supposed to be a fresh start, and now, he was back to square one. Not even. He was in the basement of square one—the root cellar.

Leon finally caught a good look at Sherry with the lights on, still covered in orange dust, her fingers and cheeks stained. “Jesus. Did you eat the Cheetos or roll in them?”

Sherry laughed. “Leon taught me to play poker, and then I won all the cheezies,” she said to Chris, who grinned.

“Nice job.” Chris offered her a high-five, which she eagerly accepted. The hero worship was already forming.

“He gets a little wrinkle right here when he lies,” Sherry said, pointing a small finger between her eyebrows.

“Okay,” Leon said, scooping Sherry off the bed and carrying her off under one arm. “Let’s get you cleaned up and back in bed, munchkin.”

Cheeto dust proved a formidable adversary, but they managed. When they walked back into the room, Chris was standing exactly where they had left him, his bag still slung over his shoulder and his boots laced.

Getting Sherry tucked back into bed became a struggle now that the brand new company hyped her up; no hesitation whatsoever. She liked Chris. She even made Chris put her to bed, Leon faking offence at being disregarded for the new guy, but there was something about seeing a six-foot boulder of a man coax a tiny twelve-year-old back to sleep that made Leon’s chest ache. Especially when Chris told the story of how Claire was convinced that if she left fake teeth under her pillow, she could trick the tooth fairy into giving her more money. It never worked. The tooth fairy left chocolate coins instead. Fake money for a fake tooth.

Leon watched perched on the edge of the other bed, a little envious of Chris’ skill with kids. He double-checked the safety on his handgun, then the clip. Chris eyed Leon as he set his weapon back down on the bedside table, and Leon couldn’t muster the energy to be self-conscious about his paranoia.

Chris may be Claire’s sister and a fellow survivor of Raccoon City, but Leon didn’t actually know him. For all he knew, he was a traitor like Irons or Wesker. Maybe he wasn’t the man Claire believed him to be. What the hell had he been thinking? Inviting a stranger to stay with them?

With Sherry asleep again, Leon and Chris were left to settle in for the remainder of the night. For Chris, that meant shedding his bulky jacket and combat boots.

“It’s Leon, right?” Chris said. He stood awkwardly beside the bed, watching Leon click off the light and climb under the blankets, tucking himself up against the edge of the mattress as close as he possibly could without toppling off. “Claire mentioned you in one of her messages.”

Leon almost facepalmed. He hadn’t introduced himself. He really was doing everything backwards. “Yeah. That’s me. Leon S. Kennedy.” He curled up into a small ball.

“Jesus Christ.” Chris swiped his palm across his mouth. “You’re the new rookie.”

Leon chuckled humourlessly, his hands tightening into fists around the sheets pulled up to his neck. “Was a hell of a first day.”

Chris picked up real quick that Leon didn’t want to talk about it. So instead, he climbed into his side of the bed, the one closest to the door. The mattress dipped under his weight, and Leon tensed. Where else would Chris have slept? The floor? The last person Leon shared a bed with was his ex, who had seemingly saved his life. If she hadn’t broken up with him, if he hadn’t gotten drunk, if he hadn’t slept in hungover as hell, he would have arrived right in the middle of the initial panic, and who knows if he would have survived that. No one else in the department had.

What would it have been like? The screams, the moans, the pleas for help- the sounds still played on repeat in Leon’s head. Lieutenant Marvin Branagh, mouth agape, stumbling towards him with his hands out. Leon had put two bullets between his eyes.

The first indications of a panic attack slammed into Leon. Abruptly, his throat closed. He couldn’t breathe, his vision slid out of focus, and his chest compressed. Like someone reached into his chest and squeezed his heart in a vice. His entire body shook.

Suddenly, a warm voice murmured in his ear, the soothing tone talking him down, calming him. Leon wasn’t alone. He wasn’t trapped in the police station battling endless waves of the undead, the people of Raccoon City he’d taken an oath to serve and protect.

“Leon, kid, you need to breathe,” Chris said. His presence was a solid wall behind Leon. “I’m going to touch you, okay?”

Leon focused on Chris’ voice. His vision began to swim back into focus, his hearing rushed back in a sudden wall of familiar night noises like the drip of the faucet in the bathroom or the lonely car that passed on the highway. He nodded, not fully understanding what Chris was saying. An arm slid around his waist and pulled him back into a firm chest. Leon flailed, seconds from panic again when Chris’ voice rumbled in his ear.

“You’re going to be okay. I got you.”

Leon grasped Chris’ arm, his grip probably tight enough to leave bruises, and he choked on a shuddering sob.

“It’s okay, Leon. You’re going to be okay.”

Gasping for air, Leon rolled over and buried his face in Chris’ chest, and Chris let him. Leon’s sobs were muffled in Chris’ arms, not wanting to disturb Sherry in the next bed. He felt every subtle muscle flex when Chris tightened his grip or shifted them into a more comfortable position. That’s how Leon passed out, wrapped in the reassuring embrace of a complete stranger, one who understood the hell he’d lived through and the fear and uncertainty he felt in his soul.

Morning came quickly. Leon woke up still curled into Chris’ chest with a death grip on the other man’s faded t-shirt. Chris’ nose was buried in Leon’s hair, each soft snore ruffling his hair, but his embrace hadn’t lessened overnight.

The warmth of embarrassment burning, Leon snuck out of bed, anxiously loosening Chris’ hold and dashing for the safety and solitude of the bathroom, horrified at his complete lack of control the night before. No one had held him like that before, at least not since he was a child and his grandma would sit up with him after a nightmare. But, sadly, this was another type of nightmare, a waking one.

When Leon finally mustered the courage to wander back into the room, Chris was up, sitting on the edge of the bed with his elbows on his knees.

“You okay?” Chris asked the same time Leon burst out, “I’m sorry!”

Chris sighed. “You didn’t do anything wrong. When I showed up on your doorstep last night, I saw right away that you were barely holding it together.”

Leon’s fists clenched at his side. He couldn’t meet Chris’ gentle gaze.

Chris crossed the room in two enormous strides and considerately grasped Leon by the shoulders. “It was the shock finally hitting you. It happened to me too, but I was alone,” Chris admitted. “Hey. Hey, come on. Look at me.”

Leon bit his lower lip, but he slowly looked up, eyes stinging. “I don’t know what to do.”

Telegraphing his movements, Chris gently pulled Leon into a tight hug. “You’re not alone. We’re going to do this together. I want to take Umbrella down, but first, I wanna make sure you’re okay.”

Leon jerked back so fast Chris stumbled. “I want to help. I want to make those sons of bitches pay.”

Chris smiled. “Good. But first, I have a safe house.”

Together, they set the plans. Leon and Sherry would meet Chris in two days, hopefully with Claire in tow, at Chris’ new safehouse three states over. Sherry and Leon could catch a bus a couple miles down the highway to get them most of the way. The trick would be getting up the mountain to the cabin. But they were in this together. Hope simmered once again.

Armed with a freshly drawn map on motel stationery, Leon watched Chris pack. Umbrella wouldn’t know what hit them.

“Here. Take it.”Chris handed Leon two rumpled twenties, a five, and a few ones he dug out of his wallet. “It’s all the cash I have on me, but it should be enough to get you there. I’ll drop you off-”

“No.” Leon took the cash, but waved off Chris’ offer to give him and Sherry a lift to the bus station. “It’s in the opposite direction. We’ll be fine.”

“Two days,” Chris promised. Sherry had climbed out of bed and now clung to Chris’ arm as if he couldn’t leave as long as she was attached. He ruffled her hair. “With or without Claire, I’ll be there and we’ll go from there.” Chris grabbed Leon by the back of the neck and dragged him into a gruff hug, their foreheads lightly pressed together. “It’s gonna be okay, kid.”

And Leon believed him. That is, until two hours later when an unmarked vehicle pulled up on Leon and Sherry hiking down the side of the road, hand in hand. They never made it to the rendezvous.

[sailorhyunjinz]

𝕴𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕷𝖔𝖘𝖙 𝕾𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖘 𝐈𝐈

© 2021 SailorHyunjinz ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 

Pairing; Bartender!Changbin x Fem!reader (she/her pronouns)

Warning ; ANGST!!! SMUT!! skz side characters, semi-slow burn, hurt/comfort, strangers to lovers, depiction of mental disorders, consumption of alcohol, tobacco use, dysfunctional families, mentions of undereating, vague hints to eating d-sorders mentions of crimes, mentions of blades, fainting, mentions of dr-g use, arguments, mentions of savior complex, mentions of childhood neglect, depiction of depression, mentions of needles, mentions of blades, yelling, mentions of hangover, parental issues (lmao cherry just say daddy issues), arguments

𝘕𝘚𝘍𝘞 ; PIV, unprotected sex, hair pulling, drooling, getting caught, masturbation, fingering, clitoral stimulation, orgasm (f). 

(fic header made by @yjeongs! thank u cora <33) 

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 ; 10.0 k 

From one survivor to another; cheers you guys. 

O N E ｜ T W O

                        ⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ Playlist ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

Drugs N Hella Melodies - Don Toliver, Kali Uchis

Life is a Bi... - Bibi 

cigarette and condom - Bibi 

Empty Trash - LØREN 

Noir - Sunmi 

NEED - LØREN

Pretty Boy - The Neighbourhood

(hint hint look at the lyrics <33)

𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥.

𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘧 18.

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈 ; 𝐌𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐢𝐚

Three months.

Three months of booze, questionable substances, friends and most importantly. 

Him.

Seo Changbin. 

You never knew you could feel this deep about someone, there hadn’t been a reason earlier in your life since everyone in it either used you or abused you. But you knew he was different from the first time you saw him that night in the dark room, injured and surrounded by 7 other boys that were now your closest friends. Why would anyone ever want to leave this place? There was everything! Free drinks, ear-deafening music and your boyfriend. This was heaven for a hurt soul like you, so why would anyone search for an exit in this box of traitors? 

“O-oh fuck! Changbin!” you cried out as the momentum of his thrusts made you jolt forward, hands desperately trying to grab onto the black leather of the sofa you and him had made love on countless times, the door always being unlocked since there wasn’t a lock and this damn parallel universe wasn’t gonna install one anytime soon. 

Changbin grabbed your hair, twisting it around his hand as he pounded into you from the back, the supple valleys of your ass wobbling with each movement. Your voice became frail, stuttering and moaning his name in broken syllables along many other pleas and swearwords, the way your words became incoherent the longer he fucked you made his head lull backwards, pure music to his ears unlike that shitty music that blasted through the speakers on the dancefloor that was just next to the tiny dark room that was currently filled with the scent of sex and lust. Your head was tilted up, eyes tightly shut as you clenched around Changbin’s leaking cock that was jackhammering into your wet cunt, his dick glistening with your slick every time his hips moved away from you and reflected in the minimal light of the room. He grunted as all kinds of lewd sounds were heard from you, the skin slapping against each other and the squelching noise of your pussy being filled with his cock. His hands had a tight grip on your hips, his fingers digging into your skin as the pleasure surged through every nerve of his body, sweat beading around on his temples. Your arms could barely hold you up, quivering and risking to collapse under you causing you to put your head towards the seat, warm cheek against the slightly cold leather. With your back fully arched your ass perked up, Changbin hitting exactly the right place in this position, a small stream of drool hanging from the corner of your swollen lips. You were so close to your release, hanging on by a thread to not tip over the edge and be sent spiraling down an earth shaking orgasm. 

“C-changbin, I’m gonna f-fucking cum” you stutter, reaching your hands backwards to which he let go of your hair and instead grabbed your wrists, holding you in place and pushing you down onto his cock. Your voice was no longer a whimper but instead a scream, goosebumps erupting on your soft skin as you panted, Changbin viciously thrusting inside you and being fueled by your pleasured sounds, he got off by the fact that you felt good. You were so close. So close.

“QUICK!! FELIX FUCKING FAINTED” Jisung said, bursting through the door but immedietly regretting his decision as he yelled out into the room that was now filled with your yelp and the loud club music from outside. 

“For fuck sake Jisung! Knock!” Changbin growled at the boy, you trying to grab your clothes off the floor and desperately covering yourself as Jisung stod in the doorway with panicked eyes, flailing his arms around in an anxious state. He was more appalled by seeing Felix passed out than he was seeing Changbin fucking you from behind. 

“NO TIME FOR KNOCKING, JUST FUCKING MOVE” he said, signaling his hands to follow him. In a haste you put on your clothes that weren’t much more than a skirt and a tight shirt, oh and of course your sexy panties, you had leveled up from your previous looks that made you look like a distressed mother of 4. Now you knew when you were gonna pass out and you even teleported in the phonebooth instead of injuring your head against the wall as you fainted. Changbin did the same, putting on only his pants as he ran after Jisung, you following shortly after, scared about what you were gonna witness.

The main dance floor looked like it usually did. People high, drunk or both, dancing and singing their hearts out, falling over and tumbling down on the floor. The whole place reeked of straight liquor and the music was loud enough for anyone to go deaf. You held Changbin’s hand as he dragged you through the crowd, not letting his eyes go from Jisung’s figure that was leading the both of you to the back end of the club, pushing through people and muttering small apologies that couldn’t be heard by even yourself. When you got to the end of the big place you saw Felix, his back and head against the table as he was completely knocked out, his legs dangling from the end of the rectangular table. You climbed on top of the soft seatings of the booth, putting your cheek near his nose and mouth. You didn’t hear if he was breathing but you were assured as you felt his cold breath against your hot flesh, sighing in relief. 

“How is he?!” Jisung yelled, “is he dying?”

You shook your head, grabbing his limp wrist and putting your pointer and middle finger on the underside of his limb, his veins not visible in the dark lighting of the club. His pulse was stable, beating faintly. 

“He’ll be alright!” you yelled back, the concerned gazes of the other boys standing around the boy exhaling as they heard your words, Changbin going closer to Felix and putting his hand on his shoulder, shaking the boy and repeating his name over and over again but to no avail. Seungmin rubbed the palm of his hand against his exposed forehead as his hair was pushed back.

“I’ll stay here with him, Changbin fetch me a water bottle and,,, wait,,, why did he even faint in the first place?” he asked, the boys looking at each other until they landed on Jisung that looked distressed, his pinkish lips quivering. 

“Probably a nice concoction of no food and only alcohol” he said, peering down at his black boots, his hair flopping onto his face, too shy to meet the gazes of his friends as if he had done something wrong himself. Seungmin could only sigh, you patting Jisung on the back as you walked through the jumping crowd again, the song changing as you heard Seungmin say “get him something Changbin”, their voices fading into the beat as you walked with Jisung behind you. 

Jisung slammed the door as you two were back in the room that had only moments earlier been filled with helpless whimpers and pleas. You threw yourself on the wrinkly couch, looking away in shyness when remembering that Jisung had caught the two of you even if everyone knew that you guys fucked in that very same room whenever there was time and Changbin wasn’t standing in the bar. The young boy sat down on the dark floor, leaning his elbow against the seat of the sofa as his twinkling eyes met yours. 

“I,,, just don’t understand” he said, you tilting your head in wonder as he uttered those words.

“Don’t understand what Sungie?” you said, the walls almost vibrating from the bass of the song from outside. He sighed as he momentarily looked away from you. 

“Felix,,, like it’s so clear that he needs help, just over the last few months his cheeks have sunken in and his eyes are completely matte and lifeless” he said, his voice trembling as a lump of tears was stuck in his throat. 

“But aren’t you the same Jisung? You need help too, help to stop thinking that everyone is your responsibility. I understand that you want to help him,,, but you carrying everyone's emotional baggage has landed you here. Felix will get help by those that are capable of getting him that help, you aren’t Jisung.”

His eyes shot up at you, dark as his eyebrows furrowed, his jaw clenching in anger. He felt attacked, commenting on his actions usually made him feel offended. 

“I am capable of helping him. What about you then huh? You can’t even help your own boyfriend” he snarked, running his hand over his hair in frustration. You rolled your eyes at him, watching him as he bit the inside of his cheek. He needed to do that, he couldn’t tell you the fact that one day your boyfriend is just gonna disappear since he’s actually taking matters into his own hands and getting help. 

“Don’t say that Jisung, we both try our best,,, let’s not fight over something we can’t control” you say, your voice getting frail by the end of the sentence.

“Can’t control? We can, we can help each other!” he said, banging the palm of his hand against the warm leather of the couch, making you jump in fear. You dropped down on your knees, your eyes being on the same level as his as you looked at him, the young boy diverting his gaze immediately.

“Jisung, look at me.” You grabbed his other hand that was resting in his lap against the rough material of his jeans. “We try, that’s the best we can do. Change comes from within. Nobody can save us if we don’t save ourselves.” Jisung sighed loudly, swallowing harshly, the both of you flinching when somebody burst through the black door. Changbin was carrying Felix on his back, the male still passed out on his broad shoulders. Your boyfriend looked puzzled at the scene before him. His girlfriend holding hands with one of his closest friends, sitting close enough to feel his breath against her cheek, both looking like two helpless deers caught in headlights. He furrowed his eyebrows as he walked into the room, throwing Felix off his shoulder and positioning him into a semi-prone position in order to open the airways. You and Jisung stood up, looking at the blonde boy and how his eyelashes layed gently against his lower eyelid. Changbin looked at Felix for a while before turning to you with a serious expression. 

“So,,, what happened here?” he said to which you shrugged.

“Me and Jisung just talked,,, about Felix” you answered, Changbin uttering a little “oh” as his previous rather unfaithful suspicions were proven to be false. “There’s no need to worry, he’s breathing so he won’t be in any medical danger as of right now but somebody needs to keep an eye on him,,, in case something changes.” You smiled at him talking.

“Alright doctor Changbin” you said while giggling, hugging him and him wrapping his sturdy arms around you, looking at Jisung’s mellow expression, eyes brimming with tears as he sat down on his knees on the floor once again, pushing a lock of hair from Felix’s delicate face, cupping his cheek that was once plump but now gaunt. Changbin pulled away from your comforting embrace and patted Jisung on the shoulder, bending his knees to get closer to him. 

“Do you wanna keep an eye on him, Ji?” he asked to which the boy nodded, not answering with words, not even a gaze at the male that was talking to him. He turned around to look at you, pointing his chin towards the door, signaling for the two of you to get out and leave the two boys alone to which you nodded, following Changbin out and gently closing the door behind you by turning the knob and releasing it slowly. The music got louder and louder as you two walked in the long corridor before ending up on the main floor, the corridor going to the bar and you could only get onto the dance floor by exciting through the wooden gate of the bar. 

“I’ll go find the others, you should work!!” you yelled through the music and Changbin nodded, giving you a kiss on the lips before you exited through the gate, being careful to knock any of the liquor bottles on the walls over and causing a ruckus like you’d done once before, being black-out drunk and trying to hobble your way through to god knows where, accidentally swinging your arms towards the shelfs. Luckily everything restores itself in this universe.

People were doing their usual activities in all corners of the club, making out against a wall or jumping, spilling their drinks on the floor that Changbin would have to mop up afterwards when he steps in the sticky liquid that pressed up against ones shoe. It was impossible to see who was who in the dark room, the neon lights on the roof changing colors but not making it easier for you, especially not with the commotion around you, individuals bumping into each other. In the distance you saw a hand waving, a familiar hand that was decked out in maybe a thousand silver rings, all with intricate designs that could only be seen from up close. Next thing you see is Hyunjin jumping, the bedazzled hand belonging to the long haired blonde male that always made sure to use the most expensive perfume. You made your way over to him, the male smiling brightly as he sat down on the edge of the cubical sofa, the other males being around the table that Felix was lying unconscious on just a brief moment earlier. The table was filled with half empty beer bottles along with red glimmering packs of cigarettes that belonged to some of them. Hyunjin patted the seat next to him, scooting closer to Jeongin that was ruffling his slightly sweaty hair, putting the bottle green top against his lip and taking a sip, his adam's apple moving as he swallowed. 

Hyunjin was different, different from anyone else in this place. You’d expect him to have the best life imaginable due to his family background. His father was the CEO of an influential business and his mother being his fathers assistant, both living a lavish life and providing for their only son, Hyunjin. But no amount of wealth can buy happiness. You don’t know the entire story but what you have heard when he was drunk and barely able to speak is that he was bullied all throughout school, struggling with the pressure being put on him by his parents to become a businessman just like his father. It ate Hyunjin alive to everyday go to sleep and feel like a failure that wasn’t able to live up to his parents expectations. He wasn’t worth this lifestyle he thought as he mindlessly doodled on the edge of his college application papers, it was easier to end it. He felt like a coward, always taking the easy way out but that’s how he’d lived his entire life. Getting help wasn’t an option, it would bring shame upon the family if anyone found out that he went to therapy and besides, his family didn’t believe in mental illnesses, it was simply to “go on a run” to feel better. “Then why the fuck am I not feeling better? I’ve ran miles but my mind runs faster” he wrote in the small black notebook he kept in his bedside table, hiding it together with his cigarettes under piles of papers and books. That’s how he ended up here, being together in a little group consisting of Chan and Minho along with some other people that had already departed from the place he felt the safest. 

You gave a smile to Hyunjin, grabbing the beer bottle in front of him, earning a little “hey!” from him but you drank it anyway as you laughed at his reaction, the bitterness spreading throughout your mouth. You exhaled, putting the bottle down harshly, the loud sound being drowned out by the music. Hyunjin laughed along with you, he seemed kinda distant, his pupils dilated. With furrowed eyebrows you looked at the other boys that looked back at you in a confused manner. 

“Something wrong y/n?” Seungmin asked, his cheeks slightly red from the heat that was radiating off everybody in the room, the tension heightening the temperature. Your eyes landed on Minho who looked equally as dazed as Hyunjin, looking up at the ceiling as the crown of his head rested against the dark walls in an uncomfortable manner. 

“You guys definitely did something” you said to which Hyunjin laughed, now stealing Minho’s drink since he was completely immersed at how the colors changed. 

“Of course we did,,, if we were gonna do it, why not here?” he said, looking at you through hooded eyes, his gaze sharp as pin needles, the black smudged eyeliner around his eyes not making it easier to escape the way you drowned in them. It was true, here was the place where you could be yourself, do whatever you pleased and act reckless as long as you didn’t hurt anybody, a rule Minho found difficult. It’s not that he wanted to hurt people, it’s just that he couldn’t help himself. Something bad was gonna happen if he didn’t. So that’s what the switchblade was for, not to hurt anyone but just in case he needed to add another felony to his list. You didn’t even wanna know what substances that ran through his veins but you felt bad for him. He was a slave to his own thoughts, sometimes even his own actions. He had no other choice but to obey them, do everything that the voices whispered faintly into his ear, a serenade of revenge to everyone that has never believed in him, considered him a shame and neglected him. No, not him. His inner child. 

Seungmin grabbed the red carton of cigarettes, the crimson wrapper unfolding itself when he opened the lid and grabbed one of the deathsticks whose orange ends were looking up at him. He picked one up, putting it to his lips and patting down his sides in search for a lighter but to no avail. He sighed out of the corner of his mouth, gesturing towards Hyunjin by flicking his pointer finger upwards, the blonde boy reaching over to his pocket and retrieving a white lighter that he put on the glossy mahogany table and scooted across it, Seungmin grabbing it as it nearly fell to his feet. He thanked Hyunjin by lazily saluting with two fingers before igniting the cigarette, the deep purple fading out into a light orange at the tip of the flame, the smoke evaporating around Seungmin as he puffed, exhaling straight ahead of him, poor Jeongin beside him coughing. 

“What’s even the purpose of these?” Jeongin said, grabbing the packet and examining it closely, twisting and turning the small box.

“What’s the purpose of your life?” Seungmin answered with an evil laugh, you wanting to bend over the table and smack him across the face for talking like that to the youngest. Jeongin shrugged his shoulders, smirking at Seungmin.

“Touchè I guess” he said, a smile hiding his pain. “Can I get one?” he said as he nudged Seungmin on the shoulder, the boy already taking his second puff. Seungmin didn’t answer, simply placing the cigarettes and Hyunjin’s white lighter in front of him. You stared at Seungmin in disbelief for a moment before throwing yourself over Hyunjin’s lap, grabbing the two objects and clutching them tightly in your hand. Hyunjin flinched at the sudden commotion, all the boy’s eyes were on you, tilting their heads like confused puppies. 

“Don’t you even dare Yang Jeongin” you said, him looking at you with twinkling innocent eyes. He nodded and you turned your head back to Seungmin. “And you, no actually all of you, quit it” you said, a moment of silence flew by before all of them bursted out in laughter.

“fucking,,, tell that to your boyfriend first” Minho said, him finally awake from his trance “if you manage to get him to stop then we’re all with you y/n” he said, laughing, his two front teeth poking out like a rabbit. You sighed, looking at the four boys but noticing Chan was missing. 

“Where’s Chan?” you asked, Seungmin shrugging as he exhaled grey smoke again.

“He hasn’t arrived yet,, don’t know what he’s up to” he answered, putting the orange end to his plump lips, pink in color but this being impossible to see in the changing neon lighting. “I wonder how Lixie is doing,,,” he added with a sigh. Good you hoped, the last three months have been nothing but a downward spiral to hell for the boy, everyday the gleam from his eyes got duller and duller until they were matte with fatigue. You remember a distinct moment that happened in the first couple of weeks in the club, you still getting to know the peculiar characters that moved around in this place. Felix was sitting in the bar, you sitting right next to him, the whole conversation was difficult to hear due to the music and chatter from people but you guys made do. 

“You know that song? By Radiohead?” he said. You shrugged and shook your head.

“Which one?” you asked, taking a sip from your drink that was unfortunately made by another bartender, Changbin not being there yet. 

“That one where they sing ‘I want a perfect body, I want a perfect soul’” he said with a giggle, grabbing his glass and taking a swig of the poison in his glass, decorated with lemons and limes. You laughed with him, not knowing what he meant, thinking he was just spewing random words at you from being intoxicated. 

“Yeah, what about it?” you said, the young boy’s smile fading away as he gulped, placing down the drink. 

“I don’t know,,, I often listen to it on the bus or home alone,,, it tells me something but I can’t place my finger on what exactly” he said with a loud sigh, resting his cheek on his hand that was bent against the dark wooden bar. 

“Isn’t it the lyrics?” you said, “the fact that you want to be perfect in every way?” Felix hummed for a minute before nodding his head slowly. 

“It’s not even that I want to be perfect because that’s what society taught me,,, it’s because I live in a false reality where I believe that people will love me and appreciate me more if i tweak everything” he blurted out, going silent and sipping his drink slowly. 

“I’m happy that you know that it’s false but,,, what’s stopping you?” you asked, looking at the boy whose eyes were gazing at the wooden stick inside his drink, stirring it over and over again. 

“Because,,, if I stop,,, I won’t be sick enough” 

The both of you got silent after he remarked those words. Felix got silent because he thought he’d said something wrong. You got silent because you knew how that felt, that someone was going through your struggles. 

“You don’t prove anything by that Felix. I k-know this is gonna sound stupid and you’ve heard it so many times but,,, just know that I love you no matter how you look. I’m happy that you’re here Lixie” 

You looked at him and his dark brown eyes met yours, glittering once again, rounded as if he’d heard the best news of his life. He opened his arms and you stood up on the floor, hugging him and squeezing him by the sides.

“I’m happy that you are here too y/n” he whispered in your ear, barely audible from the loud bumping of the music. You pulled off the hug and shimmied up the bar stool again, putting the transparent glass edge to your lips and feeling the liquor trickle down your throat. 

“I was thinking of getting those words tattooed on me but now that I think about it, I want those words tattooed on me but with a big red x over it.” You smiled together with him, his dimples being carved into those freckled cheeks along with his bleak eyeshadow, his lips a cherry tint. 

“You should.”

“Oh fuck-” you cursed as you woke up on your living room floor that was covered in dust and crumbs that was a trail all the way to the kitchen. You sighed every time you were back in reality, in the cursed world that wanted nothing else but to crush you under its fingertips. A patter was heard from outside, gentle raindrops decorating your windows as they were falling from the dusky skies. The rain was at least better you thought, in the sun you felt immense guilt for not being as happy as everyone around you, scrolling through your phone and seeing pictures of old classmates on trips and drinking out in the basking sun, wearing sundresses and hats. Being picturesque.

You made your own fun. Late wine nights and therapy appointments early in the morning where you get drilled with information that you could actually use to get better but you decide to cancel it all out. It was impossible to take in. Or maybe you wanted this now? Like Felix said, you wanted to remain sick enough even if there is no such thing. It used to be about not wanting to leave your comfort zone as odd as it sounds. You had struggled with your mental health for as long as you could remember and getting better would mean that you would have to make active changes in your life that at the moment didn’t seem appealing. But now it wasn’t about that. It was about Changbin. Getting better would mean that you would have to leave him, not only him but all the other friends you made at the club for the last months. They felt closer than family especially since you’d barely had one in the past. You wanted to stay by Changbin for forever but did you want to suffer for just as long?

Little did you know, Changbin didn’t. 

You stood up from the wooden floorboards, stepping closer to the balcony door and seeing the rain cover the streets, lonesome people walking with umbrellas and rain jackets through the storm, probably on their way home to a delicious home cooked meal, a comfortable bed and a stable mind. You only had one of those things but you, in contrast from before the club, didn’t get jealous when you saw those people down at the rainy street. You had your own happiness that was Changbin.

Every time you said his name your heart started racing, your knees almost bent underneath you as you walked back to the couch, no lights turned on in the entire odorous apartment. With a thump you fell with your back against the comforting material, once again being swallowed by a fort of pillows and clothes that you haven’t been bothered to put away. The tv display stood blank, your silhouette reflecting in the matte sheen of the screen, your face almost hanging low with boredom. What was there to do when you weren’t in Changbin’s secure arms? 

It was as if his name rolled off your tongue. Smooth as butter, sweet as syrup. You closed your eyes, eyelashes fluttering against your cheek, tickling the sensitive skin on your face. Underneath your lids pictures flashed by in bright colors, not from imagination but from memory. The pictures radiated their energy through your entire body, sending shivers down to the tips of your toes as you saw the faces of your best friends and boyfriend, their smiles creating red apples on their cheeks. 

You wondered how many of those smiles were fake. 

A wave of arousal shot through your body as remembered the events that took place before Jisung had a chance to ruin them, how Changbin grunted next to your ear, his hot breath teasing the shell of your ear as he whispered, the movements of his hips going from rolling to pounding, the room filling with the lewd noises of skin slapping against each other accompanied with your tiny whimpers, pleading him to make you cum. You couldn’t help but to rub your legs together, shifting in the grey sofa that was decorating your trash pile of a living room, the other decor pieces being empty bottles and white used tissues that were tiny houses to your tears. You peeked down quickly, seeing that you were still in your party clothes that consisted of a shirt and a short skirt that was sitting kinda lopsided on the base of your hips, hugging your skin tightly. With a rapid hand you removed the garment by unzipping it by the side, kicking the fabric towards the end of the couch with your feet that were bare, you managed to toss your sneakers away whilst you were deep in your imaginations. Except for the bright colors in your mind, the rest of the apartment was dark, not a single light being switched on. Your light source for many of your lonesome nights were the grey poles on which a bulbous light hung, a so-called street light. The blue cold light shone inside, deep dark shadows being casted on the walls by the trees that decorated the sidewalk. 

Lines started to blur between the real and the fake, not sure if you actually felt Changbin’s hands wrapped around your neck or if it was just yet another illusion your mind has decided to put forward. You could feel the warmth from his hands surging down your neck, soothing your heart in a comforting way. It was as if you were being held in a way that made your blood run south, loved and aroused at the same time. It was as if a ball of warmth bubbled inside you, encapsulating you in its aura of happiness and distraction, your hand teasing the the skin on your lower abdomen before it plunged beneath the small pair of cotton panties that had been violently pulled off by your boyfriend some time ago, exactly how much was something you couldn’t tell, the universe simply didn’t allow time. 

Time is an arrow. 

It always goes forward. 

Under the thin elastic your fingers started moving on their own, like they knew what to do, almost imitating what Changbin had done so many nights prior to this one on that murky couch. You couldn’t help but to wonder if he missed you right this moment. Was was he doing? What was he thinking? You wondered if he thought about you whenever he pleasured himself, if it was your name that echoed in the four empty walls of his broken down apartment whenever he came. The thought of his hand wrapped around his cock as he groaned made you sweat, the skin on the underside your knees sticking to each other as your knees were bent, soles flat against the frowning sofa. Automatically you spread your legs, one resting against the wallpapered surface as the other one hung out from the edge of the sofa. With your middle finger you felt the slippery surface, gathering your slick as you swiped up your finger, coating the sensitive bud in stickiness. You clenched around nothing, thinking about how Changbin whispered his praises in a sweet tone like a serenade.

“You’re doing so well y/n, fuck,,, you’re so pretty princess”

You nodded despite there being no one to see, small whimpers forcing their way out of your throat as two fingers circled your clit, spreading one pussy lip with a third finger, widening the area of contact. Your spine arched at anticipation, a faraway feeling approaching with quick strides as you squirmed your hips, butt digging into couch cushions as your gently pinched your slick-covered clit. Your hole was practically begging for more, velvety walls throbbing for pleasure that you didn’t mind giving, slowly inserting your middle finger, followed by a second finger, hissing at the initial stretch and getting used to the feeling, wiggling your fingers inside just like Changbin always does but his fingers filled you up better accompanied by the small marks he left all over your torso and tits, sucking on your delicate nipples with his wet tongue, leaving a trail of saliva as he licked around the valley of your tits, the ticklish feeling causing you to throw your head back. 

“f-faster binnie” you said into thin air, there being no one to answer your request except your fingers that started going faster in and out of your squelching hole, using your thumb to nudge on your clit, desperately trying to move it in circles and moaning as pleasure built up in the pit of your core. You licked your lips, coating them in a thin sheen of spit, imagining his soft lips pressing up against yours, his tongue coaxing yours as he licked your bottom lip, nibbling on it before slipping it into your mouth, the soft surface meeting yours, a languid kiss being exchanged as he panted into the kiss, you whining gently in between breaths. Your hair stood in a mess as you rubbed your head against the fluffy pillow under you, a couple of stray pieces sticking to your forehead that was covered in a lustre of sweat, reflecting in the small amount of light that was looming in the room together with you. Your mind blurred with lewd scenes with him, curving your fingers inside you in order to reach your g-spot and being startled by your own moan when you did, it simply felt too good, especially when thinking that it was his fingers that plunged into your wetness. 

“Just a little bit more y/n,, o-oh shit,,, f-fuck i’m gonna cum”

His voice ringed in your ears, it didn’t have to be loud to be memorable and make your head spin with pure amativeness. Your fingers started to hurt from how vigorously you were pumping them inside yourself, bringing yourself to the edge as you imagined that it was Changbin’s cock, twitching and begging from release, wishing he would cum inside you and paint your walls in his milky white cum, the hot liquid oozing out of your swollen pussy. Your clit throbbed, your breathing getting uneven between your parted lips, your hand being slightly restricted by the fabric of your underwear. 

“Cum for me baby”

It was an automatic response. Your hips convulsing upwards, high-pitched moans bouncing off the walls as you continued to tease your clit, pulling out your fingers and rubbed the swollen bud up and down into overstimulation until you it hurt, your eyes tightly squeezed, small droplets of tears teasing the corners of your shut orbs. The high washed over you, from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes, every body part rushing with adrenaline before coming down in a state of repose. Slowly you withdrew your hand from beneath the fabric, the elastic snapping gently against your skin, fingertips glistening with your juicy release that now also coated your panties as it rubbed against the inside fabric. You slowly opened your eyes, vision blurry before focusing correctly, seeing nothing but darkness and vague outlines of objects. Night had fallen. You sighed, you were alone.A part of you wished at Changbin had been there whenever your glittering doe-eyes sprung open, your plushy lips being met with his but alas you couldn’t get everything in life.

Except that you couldn’t even get anything. At all.

“Binnie!!!” you shouted as soon as you opened your eyes as you woke up on the floor, looking around confused as your voice echoed in the room. You rubbed your eyes, the familiar automated voice and its words still stuck in your head.

“Uh? Over here y/n”

You heard his voice, the sweet tune hitting your eardrums, you looked at the direction of the sound and noticed that you were lying on the main dance floor. No music. No people. You stood up with wobbly knees, looking around and being shone on by a spotlight on the ceiling, watching Changbin drying off a couple of glasses with a kitchen towel, a brown apron sitting snugly around his waist, another piece of useless fabric that hid his well-sculpted body. 

“W-why is there no one here? Are we glitching again?!” your voice panicked as your gaze was busy, landing everywhere from the meaningless neon green exit sign pointing to nowhere to the colorful transparent liquor bottles on the shelves behind your lover. Changbin let out a little snark as he put the glass down, throwing the cloth over his shoulder and leaning on the wooden bar counter.

“No y/n, sometimes many people are busy and that’s when you don’t teleport here,,, you know that already”

You let out a small “oh” in realization before walking over to the bar and throwing yourself into a chair lazily, tapping the table with your pointer finger twice, a quiet signal for help. The kind that alcohol provided. Changbin didn’t say anything, simply scooping some ice into a low glass with pretty carved out details at the bottom, the black haired boy filling up the glass with whiskey, the brown liquid seeping between the cubes of frozen water. It was oddly silent in the club, not from the fact that there wasn’t anyone else there but there was this awkward feeling between the two of you, as cold as the ice cubes that the champagne bottles were resting inside a iron bucket full of ice underneath the bar on one of the shelves. 

“So uhm,,, was everything alright yesterday?” he asked in a low voice, peering at you through hooded eyelids as he tilted the glass, pouring another liquor bottle and pouring the substance in. 

Memories of the night prior flashed past your eyelids causing you to almost choke on your saliva. Changbin looked at you suspiciously, furrowing his eyebrows as he put the glass on the coaster in front of you, watching you gulp down the poison. He had something on his mind, the words were basically danging off his pink lips but he hesitated, something stopped him every time he tried to open his jaw and let the words pour out in a puddle of word-vomit on the floor. The words were lodged in his throat like a boulder, he didn’t know how to say it.

“Something wrong binnie?” you asked with a confused expression, your eyes filled with concerned. What if something had happened in a universe you couldn’t even reach, the boy wandering alone with his concerns? 

You took another sip from the glass, frowning as the alcohol stung your tongue and descended down your esophagus like a ball of fire, observing the contents that you were drinking partly because you were interested in what concoction your boyfriend had made but mostly cause you didn’t want to look him in the eyes in this frigid atmosphere. He shook his head, giving you a non-verbal answer. 

You didn’t believe him. 

By the way his jaw clenched to the awkward posture as he stared at you, he had something to confess and you weren’t sure if you were ready for it, thinking that maybe it would be easier to not ask about it anymore and live in oblivion. 

“Come on~ I know you well enough to know that something isn’t quite right” you said, resting your chin in the palm of your hand, eyeing your boyfriends godly figure, practically drooling over him on the spot. 

“Hmm,,, y-yeah ok,, I do have something to say but,,, I’m not sure how to” he started, your heart starting to beat faster with each syllable he pronounced, thinking that this was the end of your world because he was indeed your entire world. The reason you still smiled.

“Just say it baby, I won’t be angry” you said but not sure if you could keep your promise. 

“I got a place at rehab” 

You started laughing sarcastically, the boy standing perplexed behind the counter. 

“Wh-what’s so funny?” he asked shortly after. 

“You obviously said no, right?”

Silence erupted throughout the establishment, your smile was wiped off your face as you waited for an answer but you felt the tears start bubbling up in your glossy eyes as the silence went on, brimming and coaxing to fall down onto your warm cheek, his expression was blank, a canvas without a paint. In a rage of fit you threw your glass at the nearest wall, the glass shattering in a million pieces just like your heart, impossible to glue together. 

The ice cubes melted on the floor, liquid splattered on the dark glossy floor. There was no saving the broken pieces, it was simply to throw it in the trash. You couldn’t blame Changbin for being startled, backing to the wall that displayed the bottles of alcohol, small lights above them causing the flasks to reflect tiny fractals.

“What the fuck do you mean Changbin, huh?!” you yelled at him, salty tears streaming down your cheeks, hanging off your quivering lips. He could only exhale loudly from his nose, his dusky complexion losing its color the more stressed he got. 

“No, what do you mean? Are you actually serious about letting me rot in my life and not take help when I’ve finally gotten it?” he said, his tone growing louder with each word, him practically growling like a feral wolf. You couldn’t believe the word coming out of his lying mouth. Rot in his life? Why? He had you now. You were all he needed, right?

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier then?” Your voice was expressionless, a string tinted red with betrayal laced in your tone. 

“I was scared.”You scoffed, feeling the frustration in the pit of your stomach like a heavy weight, tears glittering in the bright lights that were on currently, shining down on you as if another dimension had opened. 

One without Changbin. 

With dark eyes you looked at him, a dumbfounded smile causing the corners of your lips to turn upwards, tasting the salt of your sadness as a droplet rolled down and into your mouth. “

I never want to see you again Changbin”

“Don’t say that y/n, p-please don’t say that.” 

His voice was drowsy like he hadn’t slept in days, your theory being more believable as you saw the dark bags under his blank eyes. He had been worrying, worried for your reaction. He took off the apron and put the kitchen towel on the nearest surface before hurrying to exit out through the gate and took strides towards your standing figure but you distanced yourself every time he got closer. You felt yourself getting smaller and smaller as his shadow towered over you, his face not showing compassion but rather irritation. 

“GET AWAY!!” you screamed in a ear-deafening screech, him barely flinching as he had seen worse things in his life than his heartbroken girlfriend getting pressed up against a wall with dark streaks of makeup and tears staining her face, plagued by treachery that was brought upon by the only one she trusted in her life.

Maybe this was deeper than just your boyfriend leaving you. Maybe this was a silent cry to stay and not leave like your father once did. Sure, he was around in your childhood but that’s the thing; he was around, never actively invested in what happened in the life of his child. You didn’t like to look into it. Hell, you barely wanted to talk about it but you couldn’t help but to wonder if that was the reason as to why you had a difficult time with goodbyes. It replayed memories, memories you’d rather forget. Or wish you never had in the first place. 

“The fuck-” said a recognazible voice that belonged to Minho, the male staggering out of the toilets in a hungover haze, scratching his hair as he yawned.

“Huh,,, how long have you been there?” Changbin said, him turning his head to look at Minho whilst standing mere inches from you, sandwiching you between his body and the dark walls. 

“I have no idea,,, just woke up and heard a scream” he replied lazily, still not really registering the situation that was unfolding in front of his very own eyes. You glared at Changbin before pushing him by the shoulders, thinking you would make a big impact but him only losing his balance for a few seconds, with fierce steps you bolted to Minho, the boy sliding his hand down into his pocket the closer you got causing you to stop dead in the tracks. 

You’d rather be heartbroken than deceased. 

“Did you know about this? Did you know that this motherfucker was going to fucking rehab?!” you yelled hysterically towards the boy that picked up a packet of cigarettes instead of a switchblade. He smirked as he put a cigarette in the corner of his mouth, not breaking eye contact with you for a second throughout the entire process, almost hypnotizing you with his looks. 

“Yeah,,, we all knew” that devilish smirk only signaling that he liked the pain he saw in other people, the white lighter in his hands flicking and emitting an orange and purple flame that slowly burned the tip of the deadly stick. 

You wanted to scream on the top of your lungs, break every single one of the bottles on the shelves in a fit of rage before breaking Changbin’s heart, shatter it in pieces and step on it like glass even if it would make shards stick to your wounded and bloody feet. But that’s life. You can never hurt someone without getting hurt back. 

“And so you all decided to be on his side? To defend a liar was the best your stupid fucking head could come up with?” you couldn’t even filter your words, whatever came to your mind rolled off your tongue as smoothly as the words “i love you” once had. 

“Hey y/n! Don’t say that! He had nothing to do with it” Changbin roared, stepping closer with his heavy black boots that could probably smash someone against the concrete by the telephone booth where thousands of stray souls wandered every hour of the short 24 hours we humans have in a day. He put his hand on your arm but you shoved him away, freeing your hand from his grasp and yelling inaudible words at the boy. 

“And that’s why you don’t date a psycho, am I right Changbin?” Minho laughed, lodging the cigarette between his pointer- and middle finger, blowing the smoke towards you as a careless gesture. Changbin looked done, rolling his eyes at the other boy before shaking his head, his hair bouncing in a fluffy manner as he moved. 

“Not now Min” he answered simply, keeping his composure but you on the other hand were boiling with anger, feeling your heartbeat in your ears. You let out a half laughter filled with sarcasm.

“Somehow the real psycho has the audacity to say that to me, huh? Who the fuck do you guys think you are? You guys think it’s cool to live like this?” you said, your voice becoming frail at the end of your sentence, breaking as new tears weighed on your eyelashes and dropped down on the floor beneath you. 

“No we don’t y/n and that’s why Changbin is getting help. Don’t you see it? You are hurting him by keeping him here.”

Minho’s words stung more than a thousand needles piercing through your raw flesh. 

He was right.

The entire relationship rested on a foundation of suffering that you fed with repeatedly withdrawing from help that could make you blossom into the person you once were. Deep down you knew that this relationship was impossible, you knew it before you even fell for him but the thing is that you didn’t choose to fall in love, it happens. There’s a reason as to why it’s called ‘falling in love’, because once you’ve jumped you can’t expect to stand on the top of the cliff again. Only at the view from halfway down do you realize that maybe this wasn’t the right time and space. 

You looked at Changbin that held his hands out, wanting to hug you and make everything feel alright, like it was before and you couldn’t help but to melt at how his eyes rounded, twinkling by the thousands of lights around the room and reflecting in his teary eyes. With the arm of your sleeve you wiped off the tears, makeup rubbing off on the fabric but you couldn’t give less of a thought before Changbin wrapped his hands around you, tears falling at a rapid pace as you sobbed into the neck of your boyfriend, breathing in his musky scent that infiltrated your bloodstream and made your heart stop for just a brief moment before pounding harder than before, powered by longing. 

“I’m s-sorry Changbin” you said in between sobs, words coming out in broken syllables, it was difficult forming a sentence let alone an apology. Changbin shook his head as he put his hand on the back of your neck, descending down and rubbing your back soothingly.

“Don’t apologize y/n, you didn’t do anything wrong” His voice ran down your spine, the boy pulling away from the hug and holding you by the shoulders, looking deeply into your eyes as he spoke. 

“I love you and I will never forget you”

You nodded, your face in distress with tears and snot, puffy eyes looking back at him. 

“W-when are you leaving t-then?” you asked timidly to which Changbin responded by breaking eye contact.

“In two days.” You sighed, not sure if you should be sad. What kind of partner tells you that important of an announcement just two days prior? But you understood, he was just as scared as you. 

Scared of the unknown. Alcohol had been a part of his life for a long time, it was his comfort and now suddenly he needed to adapt to a life without it, a life in sobriety. You weren’t the only scared one. The both of you heard Minho picking up the shards of glass with his bare hands, throwing it in the trash as he smoked, not even needing to remove the cigarette from between his lips in order to exhale the smoke, grey clouds billowing out of the corner of his mouth and filling the area with the scent of over 70 harmful substances. 

In the distance you heard footsteps coming from the dark room that was pretty much the only private space in the building, Felix and Jisung walking out, their expressions changing from happy to confused upon seeing your face and Minho cleaning up. 

“W-what,,,” Jisung started but Minho put his pointer finger to his lips before removing the cigarette from his lips and mouthing to the younger boys.

“He told her”

Both Jisung and Felix nodded slowly, their eyes big as saucers as they mouthed a small “oh” back before casting a glance at the two of you, two bodies melting in a touch that could be the last one.

“What will I do without you Changbin?” you said, looking down at the ground. He sighed before smiling at you. 

“What you’ve always done y/n,,, fight for yourself because one day you will make it” he said, cupping your cheek in his hand and swiping his thumb across the tears on your cheek, the dampness remaining on the rough pads of his thumb. 

“B-but don’t worry y/n! It’s in two days,,, maybe I’ll be back tomorrow” he said, you seeing that the boys nodded their heads in the corners of your eyes. 

“Alright,,, I’ll trust you,,, I always do”

“You guys can go and I don’t know,,, talk in that other room,,, we’ll take care of stuff out here” Minho said, flicking the ashes off the end of the cigarette one last time before throwing it in the sink, the boy standing in the bar together with the the other two boys. You and Changbin nodded, making your way past them and entering the dark room that had now become a place where only memories live. With hesitance you sat down on the couch, Changbin doing the same. You glanced over at him, slowly tilting your head against his shoulder and exhaling loudly through your nose. 

The momentary silence wasn’t awkward. It was comforting. 

Silence was what this place needed, moments away from everything related to partying and drinking until your liver failed. 

“Do you remember the first time we met?” he said with a laugh, you giggling with him.

“Of course I do, it wasn’t even that long ago but,,, it feels like forever.” 

He nodded, glancing at your hand for a moment before grabbing it, his warm hand wrapping around your cold one, lacing his fingers with yours. 

“I don’t want you to leave binnie,,, t-this is unfair.” Tears started bubbling up in your throat again, your breathing getting unstable as your gaze was fixed on the ground. 

“I don’t want to leave either y/n but,,, what if we meet in the right dimension? What if that’s what happens? That when you,,, start loving yourself for who you are,,, maybe that’s when you meet the one that will continue to heal you?”

Changbin’s words made a lot of sense. Nobody knew what happened to the people that descended to the real world again. What adventures they were on or who they were loving at this point in time so maybe that did happen. It made you smile, your heart filled with hope, something you hadn’t felt since he said those doomed words earlier. You turned to him, his lips lingering dangerously close to yours to the point where you could feel his hot breath brushing up against the apples of your cheeks. He leaned in, attaching his lips on yours one last time, pushing a piece of hair behind your ear and holding you by the back of your neck, his thumb caressing the knuckles of your hand. You kissed him back, slipping your tongue into his mouth in a deep exchange of saliva intertwined with yearning. The kiss formed an even pace, you tilted your head to the side causing the kiss to get intense, his wet tongue gliding against yours, your pout swelling as he bit your bottom lip, blood rushing into it. He could almost feel yours eyelashes fluttering against the bridge of his nose. He pulled away, landing a final peck on your soft lips before nibbling the inside of his cheek in nervosity, unsure as to why he was nervous in the first place. Maybe the thought that he would never kiss you again. You put your hands around him, rubbing your dark tinted cheeks against his shirt that was luckily in a darker color as well. He smelled like home, like comfort.

A murky scent mixed with tobacco and ephemerality.

 You haven't seen Changbin since that day. 

“How have you been y/n?” said the woman sitting opposite you, tapping her pen against the A5 block of secrets that rested against a folder that has your name on the side, filled with results of various psychological tests. You shrugged your shoulders, looking out the window where the ivys growed over the glass.

“I’ve been alright,,, although I miss someone” you answered, your eyes meeting the curious ones of your psychologist that observed your body language, your foot shaking in the air as your legs were folded on top of each other. 

“Who do you miss y/n?” she asked. You thought about telling her the truth but then had you ever done that in this office?

“Doesn’t matter,,, Just someone” you answered shortly to which the lady nodded. 

“Longing is a very difficult feeling, sometimes there’s nothing you can do about it since the only thing that will cure it is seeing that person again but of course, that’s not always possible” she said, you observing the marbled pattern on the vinyl floor. You agreed, not knowing what else to do before she started talking about something else that was connected to your well-being, wondering how you are coping with still being on the hunt for a job and having your mental health to care about in the meanwhile. 

The session ended as it always does. By you walking out of the office with an orange post-it note where the next appointment was scheduled in messy writing and with a warm goodbye to your psychologist that was a nice person. It was just that you didn’t really care for her advice and you yet again felt horrible for not taking the help you got when other people in the world couldn’t afford the same experience. The wind hit you in the face as you exited out to reality, out from the solace of the office and the building that held countless of skin-crawling memories. You pulled your jacket closer to your body, walking with quick strides towards the convenience store in order to buy gum and something sweet that could stop the world from leaving a bitter taste in your mouth at all times. A bell above the door tinkled as you stepped into the store, the grey welcome mat being a soft surface to step on with your sneakers. You casted a glance at the staff, seeing the gum you always bought by the cash register and the back of a young man in a black jacket with a baseball cap, looking upwards at the cigarettes and talking to the cashier in a husky voice. You walked past aisles of various snacks and other necessities, hearing the man talking in a voice that made your head spin, sending you into a deja vu feeling.This voice, this very voice was familiar. 

“That one,, yeah,,, thanks! Oh,, just gonna grab something real quick” he said, his footsteps getting closer to you that were hunched over, looking for the banana milk on the lower shelves and squinting your eyes as tried to look further back to see if you missed a bottle by mistake. Your eyes lit up as you saw it, stretching out your hand but in that moment you didn’t feel the cool plastic layer of the yellow manufactured drink but instead a slightly warm hand that was bigger than yours, clad in a couple of silver rings. You quickly apologized and peered upwards, your eyes landing on a couple of dark hooded eyes that made your heart start to race. The lips were plump, a bit dusky in color from the cold weather. A sharp jaw that led to a prominent chin. A triangular nose that connected to a pair of strong bushy eyebrows. A face you had so longed to see. A hand you hadn’t held in what felt like an eternity. There the two of you were, holding the same bottle of banana milk in the flickering light of the store, the coldness emitting from the refrigerated shelves.

It was him.

It was Changbin. 

He was right. 

Only when one decided to heal was it destined for you to meet in a dimensions that was real. A dimension that didn’t consist of an odd phone number and a crimson telephone booth. A world away from the loud music and booze and instead entering a world that had earlier been dark but now got lighter, your tunnelvision ending and objects getting their color back. The world seemed real again. Alive like the way scent of a rose made its way down your lungs and into your blood, feeding the feeling of love from within.

You met him. 

In a different place, in a different time. But you met the same person.

The person you were destined to meet. 

Taglist ; @minholuvs @liz820​ @skztrashbag @lix-freckle3​ 

[deaconusdelirium]

If You Love Me (Crosshair x F!Reader)

Requested: “I think I know who to come too for some Crosshair content now. You’re literally so good! I had a request if you don’t mind. Could you do a oneshot of the reader f! Who’s been in love with Crosshair ever since they were cadets, he felt the same way and you were probably the only person he was truly comfortable with, and whenever his brothers got too close he’d get jealous. Like, actually telling you how he feels and all. Crosshair gets in a fight with some Regs because they were picking on his brothers, and you’re there to help. And they just all end up in a cuddle pile. Note sure if you’ve seen those fan arts of them?🥺 and years later you all were separated, until you run into them. And of course, you’re apart of the Empire while they’re deserters. And somehow they all end up in a cuddle pile again with Crosshair finally confessing his feelings and he’s just a huge romantic?, I really fucking love you and I hope you go through with this❤️🖤❤️🖤”

Wow-

That’s all I can say. Wow. This is literally perfect, of course I’m gonna do this, who would be crazy enough to say no?

———

“You can sit here Y/n” Hunter offered as you sat in between both Wrecker and him. Crosshair sat in front of you, glaring at his brothers. All cadets had separate lunches from the older clones, so there was nothing but ‘kids’ in the cafeteria. You smiled at Hunter, thanking him and started talking to Tech, wanting to hear more about his facts on other worlds since you’ve never been off world. Of course Tech seemed to love it, his eyes shined like stars and he went into whatever you wanted to hear. You even asked Echo about how he could hack into computers and terminals. Crosshair had a look of disbelief on his face, you talked to everyone but him, what did you find so interesting about them, that they had, he didn’t?

Wrecker even joined in, joking along side you. Your eyes landed on Crosshair, unsure of what to say since he was always so quiet, especially around his brothers. So you wanted him to be comfortable without having him talk to much, he never liked to anyways. “What about you Cross? Still good at hitting your targets?” He nodded, upset since you sounded a bit, not scared, almost bored when you asked him about his interest. “Fine.” Your eyes widen and then softened again at his little lash out. It was nothing new, but it still hurt that he didn’t speak to you as normally as he spoke to his brothers. You nodded your head, looking down at your food and playing with it, a little distraction. Wrecker noticed the awkwardness and nudged your side, making you fall into Hunters side a bit. You laughed it off, apologizing to Hunter and pushing Wrecker back.

“Well well, isn’t it the Sad Batch?” Your attention directed to the young Reg at the end of the table, two other cadets behind him laughing. You glared at the Reg, “Watch it” “what are you going to do? Hurt me?” He mocked, “leave her out of this” Cross interrupted, “what’s it to you? It’s not like you care for her. It’s not like you even care for these losers” he pointed to the Batch while Crosshair stood up, “I’d sit down if I were you CT-9904” “then leave” “make me” Wreck stood up beside the two, your eyes darted between the five, Crosshair threw a punch as the Reg landed on his back, the other two threw Cross down while Wreck immediately pulled the two apart. You jumped up and ran over to Cross, kneeling beside him.

“You better leave Reg, before Lama Su sees what you’ve done” you warned the young clone as you helped Crosshair up, “fine” the Reg spat as Wrecker threw the other two along with the first. Crosshair stood beside you, watching you with confusion written all over his face, your hands tended to his smaller cuts and bruises before you spoke up “well, we better go to the medical bay before someone files a report and makes things worse” you suggested as Crosshair nodded, walking along side you out the cafeteria and to the Med Bay. “Thank you” he bashfully admitted “for?” “Standing up for me” “oh! Pfft, it was nothing, really” you told him, holding his upper arm as you both walked down the white hallway. It was quiet after that, Cross checked in and they made sure he was ok before letting him go. They didn’t lecture him much since they knew fighting was in clones blood.

After that you both walked back to your shared barrack with the others. Everyone was already there, Wrecker was doing push ups, Tech was playing with some android, Echo caught up on some sleep and Hunter played with a pencil. Twirling it between his fingers so smoothly. Everyone looked over and seen you two, you took your boots off and stayed in your blacks. Everyone was already ready for bed, “Crosshair!” Wrecker ran up to Cross and gave him a big hug, throwing him down in middle of the room on a few blankets and pillows you all put there whenever you huddled up. “Wrecker!” Cross called out, trying to push his brother away, Hunter came over and sat against Wreckers back while Tech jumped up and laid down and leaned over Wreckers legs, Echo followed shortly and threw himself over the already growing pile. “Come on Y/n! Bring your blanket!” You stood up, grabbing your blanket and grabbing Lula at the same time. You threw it over the guys as you laid down near Cross.

You laid quite a ways as to not make him uncomfortable, yet you still were close “You alright? Nothing hurting?” “No, don’t worry about me” he huffed out, trying to loosen Wreckers tight grip and get out from under the boys weight. You laughed a bit as everyone put their things away and started to fall asleep. Everyone was basically a blanket for Wrecker, so he slept peacefully, Hunter could feel the coldness of the floor through the blanket so he slept on top of Wrecker while Tech used Wreckers arm as a pillow, and Echo was draped over Hunters stomach, while both you and Crosshair used Wreckers arm as a pillow as well. You held Lula and snuggled closer for warmth. Just then, Nala Se walked in, “lights off” she told everyone as she smiled. A chorus of “Night!” Played throughout the room while Nala Se smiled and turned the lights off, and closing the door. Crosshair pulled you closer so you could at least be under the blanket as well. “Night” you whispered to him, “goodnight” you closed your eyes, cherishing these moments with them all.

—

“Remember, stay to the shadows. We’re only here to eliminate the targets, and leave” you said over the comms to near Elite troops. “And if we find information?” One radioed back, “if it’s on a computer, gets as much info as you can. If it’s something we can take back, bring it. Don’t kill Gerrera. We need him alive” “yes commander” you held a fist up, signaling for your troops to stop. Making them shuffle towards the trees. Night time was the best time to hit, and with the trees covering the light from above made it even better since it was hard to spot any of you especially with your darker armor. “Camps just down the hill” “is there anyone there?” “Not sure. There’s smoke in the distance” “stay there. We have the high ground, we’ll check it out. Make sure no ones around you” you kneeled before the edge of the little cliff, your rifle scanned around as you seen civilians here and there. Your head turned to a branch breaking.

A boot to your chest kicked you back as you brought your knife out, your gun too far for arms reach. Your troops were out cold behind you from the looks of it, quite a ways actually. You told them to stay close before the mission started. The big burly trooper came close, you swung your knife, as they grabbed your wrist and twisted it, you spun around and kicked the back of their knee making them fall, they turned to you as you hit them in the head. They took the beating you gave them well, but as you turned, you were pushed down the pretty long cliff. Your knife and gun still on top of the cliff as you tried to grab onto any branches you hit on your fall. You landed on your side, holding your head as you stood up, hearing sand and rocks roll down. A slightly smaller yet skinner clone slid down after you, they jumped on you as you kicked them off.

Their hand coming up to block your coming hits, “commander?” You groaned, as the person kicked your feet out from under you. You turned and crawled away, only to have them pull you by your foot, you grabbed whatever was closest to you. A branch? You swung at their head, making them fall to the ground in pain as you heard footsteps in the bushes beside you. You looked down, did they even have any weapons on them? Nothing. You ran over behind a tree, your HUD scanning for anything, “commander?!” You angrily pressed the button, “what?” You asked, “we have intruders at-” the line was cut off with screaming and then silence. The sound was gone, yet the body from earlier was still laying there.

The civilians from earlier ran off in the opposite direction as soon as they seen you fall down. Great, there goes Gerrera. Your body fell forward and whoever was on top of you had your hands behind your back. They leaned down, and as soon as they did, you threw your head back, knocking them off you. You took stance as they stood back up, a bit taller than the second one, but still skinner than the first. “Give up, you’re not making it out of here alive” “says who?” A second voice made you spin around as a punch was thrown at you, how many were there? They ran over to you as you kicked them towards the other one that first threw you down. They argued at each other and stood back up. One that looked like a robot ran at you as you dodged his attack, grabbing his helmet and slamming it against a tree trunk beside you, the second one trying to hit you. You moved in time as they hit to tree. Your hand coming under their arm as you kicked the back of their knee. Making them kneel. A with one last hit to the back of their head they fell, holding their neck while the other held their head. “Told you”

You looked up the cliff while waking over to it, your gun and knife still up there. You stood before a tree, ready to climb it. “Where do you think you’re going?” Another one?! You just wanted to leave at this point, you were already tired, you turned and seen the helmet of an unknown clone. Their visor seemed so familiar, yet it seemed like you haven’t even met them. “I suggest you leave, by Order 66 all traitors must be eliminated. I’m giving you and your squad the chance to leave” he didn’t say anything for awhile, he stared at you. You jumped a bit as they suddenly lifted their helmet off their head, your eyes widen under your yours. It couldn’t be, no, they died. They left you on Kamino and died on another planet. They never made it home. “This is the final warning” you broke the silence. No it couldn’t be him. He looked nothing like him, but he somehow did. You shook your head, turning around to jump the tree.

You swiftly climbed it until you reached the top. At least that clone was gone. You grabbed your rifle and your knife, putting them away. It was quiet on the way back to your ship, you still kept your guard up. You stood at the door way, “any remaining troops, come back to the ship, were departing soon” you commed to the others. Hoping that there was still some troops out there somewhere. You opened the door as you walked in, you placed your gun down, head turning as you tried to brace for impact as the clone from earlier pushed you against the table. You breathed out, but the clone grabbed your helmet off you. “Y/n?” You stopped as you heard your name leave his mouth. “Who are you? How do you know me?”

“Where have you been?” The man asked frantically while searching your body, which scared you a bit, making you step the the right and back away from him. “Excuse me? I don’t think we’ve met before” “CT-9904-Crosshair” and there it was, if felt like you had just been hit with a tie fighter. “No- no Crosshair died. The others died on-” “I’m here, Crosshair from Kamino” “stop.” You held a hand up before he came any closer. “Crosshair and the others are dead. They failed a mission” his shoulders slouched a bit, it seemed like you weren’t going to budge anytime soon. He held both hands up, signing to you that he wasn’t planning on doing anything. You watched him carefully, as he stepped closer. You breath hitched as he stood right in front of you, “The Sad Batch?” Every Reg kid on Kamino called you guys that, that wasn’t enough proof. You glared at him, his hands coming up to your wrist and putting them down.

You backed away but he held you there, in place. “Goodnight” you tensed under his grasp, only Crosshair could have known to whisper that to you, in that slightly happy voice. “..Cross? Is that really you?” He nodded, his hands coming up to hold both your wrists, as your hand hesitantly came up to hold his cheek. The one where he was beaten up long ago, apparently the Crosshair tattoo covered it. You ran a thumb over it, feeling the bumps of the black drawing as he sighed out. Only he ever let you this close, he leaned into your touch, but quickly pulled away from the oncoming people. “Crosshair! You let them get away?” One groaned loudly, you stumbled back, “Wrecker.” Crosshair growled out, “Wrecker?” You asked, your eyes squinted at the man, “woah, who are you?” The big burly man walked up to you, way taller than you actually. “Thats Y/n idiot” Wreckers head snapped towards Crosshair who stood with his arms folded, “Y/n?!” He ran up to you, grabbing you in a big bear hug and swinging you around, “where have you been?” Wrecker asked, like he was still the child you knew on Kamino.

“Right where I’ve always been” you gasped out, as he set you down. He rubbed his head, another ship arrived outside yours. The door opened and out walked the other three. Their helmets off, they came in, the one with the longest hair which you assumed was Hunter, he scanned over you for a second, Y/n” “uh” “Hunter” he introduced himself again, “Hunter, wow you look” “Echo seems to be alright, his diagnostics seems stable” Hunter elbowed Tech in the stomach, “Tech, Echo in so sorry about earlier. I didn’t know” you lightly laughed out. Echo had an ice pack on his head while Tech was carrying around a first aid. “Oh. It seems Y/n is alive. We’ve been searching for you, don’t worry, at least we know you can take care of yourself” “searching.. for me?” “Don’t believe us? Check the map and notebook of all the planets we looked on” “no, I just. I waited for you guys back on Kamino, you never came back. I waited for you, and when they said you all died, I stopped wanting to lie to myself, now -I’m somewhere better than before”

Everyone gave each other guilty looks while you turned away from them, still hard to believe that they were actually alive. “We had to leave, we had the Empire on our tail” “yeah well, you can tell the old me, the one who actually believed you were still alive before I threw myself into my work” “speaking of work, why work for the Empire?” Echo asked, “well leaving Kamino and the Empire would have me long gone. And with the New Empire, we could finally rule over all that have beaten us and thought wrongly” “uh Hunter, her chip” Tech tapped Hunters shoulder, “right. Y/n, have you ever gotten your chip removed?” “Chip? What chip?” “I’d say she hasn’t” “speak for yourself” Crosshair bumped in, “have you ever been experimented on? In a tube?” “What? No, I was always loyal. Why are you asking these questions?”

“I prefer to have the chip removed as soon as possible” Tech said as you were totally lost, “agreed” you looked over at everyone, hoping for an answer. “Come with us” Hunter extended a hand towards you, Crosshair still had that jealousy he thought he had long forgotten about. But you only looked at his hand, which made Cross almost sigh in relief. “I can’t just leave, I have my home and my cadets in training back at base” “trust me, you’ll have a better life here than back on Kamino” Hunter tried desperately to get you to come, you thought about it, everyone noticed, but this time Crosshair held his arm out to you, “then take your time training the one we have” you looked back to the console behind you, the beeping of the incoming com rang out. “Give me a second. This is commander CT-9908, what’s the problem?” “We have reports about civilians taking off from the planet. And the failed mission”

“Dank farrick” you cut off the com and turned around, “we need to leave fast” they all seemed to smile at your decision. You grabbed your gun and walked down the ramp, the guys following close behind you. “Wrecker. Pull that box off and take out the wires” you slipped your helmet on as Wrecker did as told. Tech winced at the perfectly good parts being wasted. Everyone boarded on their ship, Crosshair waiting for you at the door. “Can’t believe I’m actually doing this” you scoffed, “hard to believe?” “Yeah, I just left everything I’ve ever known, behind” “hello CT-9908” you turned at your name, and a girl stood there. She waved at you, “hi?” “I’ve seen you before, Hunter always asked about you especially Crosshair but I told them to be more specific about which female clone-” “-off you go!” Crosshair pushed the girl away, “that’s Omega” you hummed, curious to see who she was.

You awkwardly stood there, unsure of what to do. “This way” Cross pulled your arm and lead you to his bed, “put your gun there, I’ll clean it later” you slid your helmet off, putting it next to his on the stacked gun cases gently. “Thank you, I’ve...I’ve never had anyone offer to clean my gun before actually” the ship powered up, you turned to face Crosshair who stared at you, he didn’t have a scowl on his face, instead, it looked like a small smile. “I’ll clean your gun for you anytime” you could basically feel his body heat through your armor, the closeness didn’t make it any better as you blush at how close he was. The ship pulled off the ground, making him fall into you, as you almost fell but he caught you. “The ships not as smooth as yours I suppose?” “No, I know the parts you need for that though” his arms around your back as you hand held his shoulder. Guess now was a good time to tell you how he actually felt. “Y/n?” He asked, eyes scanning over how beautiful you looked up closer. “Yes Cross?” It was quiet, and it seemed like if you spoke to loud, you’d ruin the moment. He felt goosebumps paint his skin under his blacks. “I need to tell you something” he wanted to get this over with quick before anyone other than you two joined or interrupted. “Go on” you spoke, wanting to hear what you thought he was going to say “promise me you’ll stay for good this time. I can’t stand the thought of you leaving again” his words were brittle “I... I promise. So long as you remember me” “I never forgot you” he pulled you closer, chills ran down your body as he gave you the smallest kiss. Then pulled away, only to see you look at him again with those eyes of your, this time. He gave you all he had, his hands held your hips as you cupped his cheek, finding yourself to be more than friends at this point.

“Cross- oh!” Omega walked in, then quieted when she seen you two, you pulled away slowly, processing what had happened as a blush coated both your cheeks. “What, Omega?” He asked irritated, “Hunter wants to talk to you” she giggled when she seen his pink face, then ran off. After that you both walked over to Hunter, he explained that you all were headed to Bracca. Mid sentence, Wrecker picked you up from behind, “I missed you being here Y/n, good to have you back though” “yeah, yeah It feels good to be back” You watched as Wrecker brought you over to the middle of the ship. Laying on the ground with you while the others started to join in. Tech put his datapad away and Echo walked over like he always did when he was smaller. Hunter still slept over Wrecker like he used to and Crosshair used Wreckers arm as a pillow. Pulling you closer to him as Omega jumped on top of Hunter holding Lula. Even after all this time you spent apart from them, it felt like you never left, they never left. And you weren’t separated. Cross faced away from the huddle and faced you, he made sure no one was looking before placing a loving kiss to your lips, “night” you whispered, “goodnight” he whispered back and pulled you closer to him

———

It seems that this one needs a second part as well. However that’ll be quite some time. I hope you enjoyed. I fixed it, and if you guys find the memes in here, I’ll love you forever and you’re now my friend😂

[give-grian-rights]

Bets Against The Void c7

ok i really like validation so its back again this week

crossposted on ao3

Whitelist AU by @petrichormeraki​

next chapter

last chapter

first chapter

They never quite fell back to sleep.

It took only three hours for them to start rolling out of their makeshift bed, and back to scrambling around the hobbit hole and making the most of the resources.

The two teens didn’t really talk, after how their last conversation finished.

Tommy peaked down into what looked like a not-so-hidden stripmine, before Tubbo’s head perked up.

“Someone’s at the door,” The brunett chimed, carefully striding their way over.

It was once again Grian, with a shulkerbox in tow.

“Sorry to bother you guys again,” Grian gave a sheepish wave while balancing the box against one arm and his chest. “I remembered last night that I didn’t leave any cooking supplies, or open up where the kitchen is.”

“It’s not just you,” Tommy decided to add, turning back towards where the entrance was. “That fuckin’ bird showed up again this mornin’. Woke us up.”

At that, Grian groaned. “Yeah..He does his own thing in the early mornings and at night. The hobbithole was basically his house. I’ll enclose him tonight, sorry for that.”

Moving the box under an arm, Grian tilted his head. “Can I go back and show you where the kitchen’s hidden?”

Tommy merely raised a brow. “It’s your house, ain’t it, dickhead?”

Tubbo lightly jabbed Tommy’s side.

“I made it, yeah, but you two are staying in it. As long as you’d like it, it’s yours and I won't come in without your explicit permission.”

With a second of baffled confusion, Tubbo cleared their throat and nodded.

“Yeah! Uh. Come in, I guess..?”

It took only a few minutes for Grian to expose the tucked away room by the super smelter setup Tubbo and Tommy were yet to investigate.

“I didn’t feel like decorating a kitchen since I already had so many plans with my megabase..If I had it my way I wouldn’t have made a kitchen at all, but the Jungle Gang of Hermits would’ve been severely disappointed if I was only having menu-crafted food.” He’d casually explain, pulling out a paper towel roll from the shulkerbox as he swiped down the tops and barren counters.

“How many Hermits are in the jungle?” Tubbo asked, brows furrowed. Their tablet’s visual narration was muted, as it repeatedly described Grian wiping off the dust from the counters.

“Ehh..Five? Including me? There’s also Ren, but he’s right on the edge, down in a masa. Beautiful setup he’s got going on.” He’d breezily explain.

Nodding along, Tommy glanced around the room.

“This is cool ‘n all but we don’t have to use this space. You left.. Shitloads of stuff, in the chests.” The blond had pointed out, turning back towards Grian.

With a shrug, Grian hummed dismissively. “Real food’s a much better idea, and i’m fairly certain steak’s most of what I got left, down here. Maybe for dinner but..Not really for breakfast, or anything.”

Tubbo shrugged. “Fair enough, yeah..We don’t exactly..Cook much? I mean- I know I certainly haven’t had the time to get much in me, other than coffee.” 

“Ooh, yeah, definitely a good traditional-prepped item.. Other than tea on occasion, I don't tend to stray from crafted food. Even on the days I sit down and eat it like a proper meal.” Grian nodded along, glancing off as he dropped the paper towels he had been using to clean into a little bin.

Tommy sighed, leaning against the wall. His head was pounding from the lack of sleep. “What’s the d-”

He was cut off  by a not-so-distant firework bang.

Tubbo flinched and ducked their head down, throwing their arms over their head. Tommy, on the otherhand, lowered to the ground, eyes sealed shut with his hands slammed against his ears.

“Hey! Hey, it’s okay, they’re duds, they’re fireworks! No firework stars, either, just a puff of smoke. You’re both okay. You’re in the hobbit hole. It’s fine, everything’s good.” Grian hushed, giving exaggerated movements as he demonstrated slow breathing.

The blond boy growled, turning to snap at Grian- “We’re not babies!  We’re fine.”

Grian nodded, stepping back to give them both more space. “Okay. It’s okay. And it’s alright if it’s not okay. That was probably just Scar. He’s gonna be in and out of there. He’s the closest neighbor.” He had calmly explained to the pair.

Tubbo had deflated, taking a breath. “Thank you. Sorry. Uh. Y-Yeah.” They nodded numbly.

Tommy raised, folded his arms and didn’t meet the gaze of Grian. His face was twisted as he glared down at the floor. He felt weak.

Taking a small breath, Grian tentatively stepped back towards the door. “I’m going to head out and let you guys cool down, okay? You’re both free to go anywhere you want.”

With that, he departed, leaving the two teens alone.

A brief, tense silence fell between them.

“..That was fucking stupid.” Tommy scoffed.

Tubbo’s brows furrowed, turning towards him.

 “Excuse you?” They spoke, voice edging towards accusatory.

“They’re gonna fuckin’ think we’re weak, Tubbo-”

“I’m sorry that i’m not a fan of explosions! Yeah- that- that one’s my bad, Tommy.” Tubbo growled, going to step away.

Tommy grabbed their arm with a loose grip. “That doesn't matter, Tubbo, we’re- we’re supposed to be able to do better than that! We look like kids to him. We look like cowards-”

“I’m not a coward, Tommy! Oh, void, can’t you just drop it?” They hissed out, yanking their arm free.

“For the love of Prime- Tubbo. Tubbo, I'm not mad at you! So I need you not to be mad at me-”

“Too late for that!” They spat, rushing themself out the door with a slam.

Left behind was Tommy, tense and red in the face with a growing pit of guilt.

...

The people slowly started to pour back into the server. With everything going as expected, the admin breezily flicked and dismissed his communication screen, leaning back as he rested atop the incomprehensible mess of community chests.

Frequent pings and beeps ran through his ears as the comms went off, mixed with alerts and chatting as people settled back down.

He hadn’t bothered to check the messages until an hour in, when a high-pitched chirp emitted. A private message.

Summoning his screen back, he read over it.

ItsFundy: Hey Dre? My messages aren’t reaching Tubbo. Why aren’t the two back yet?

Dream quietly laughed. The server could use a quick break from them. 

It only took a quick flick of the wrist to pull up Tommy and Tubbo’s info. They were both in a world. With the MCC servers closed to the public for maintenance at night, Dream could only assume the two had scampered off to Hypixel or something of the like.

Upon a brief investigation, the servers were left as unlisted.

...Nonetheless, Dream will allow himself to revel in some peace for now. Let them get a little scared. A little more respect for the server-

Dream sneered.

They’re lucky they’re as tolerated as they are, here.

...And without them present, well- that sure will leave L’manburg in an interesting situation…

Dream: Can’t say I know. Sorry. They probably ran off, dont worry too much about them.

Making up his mind, Dream scrolled back to the Player information.

“It would be a shame if they went M.I.A, especially with how fresh the wound on L’manburg is..” He mused.

A click or two on the screen and it was done. They were locked from the server. 

“Enjoy yourselves, idiots.” He yawned, kicking his legs off the chests and onto the floor.

His axe was summoned to his hand, and he stalked off, a chill running through the air.

[rudystopit]

Love Letters

[asahi x f!reader]

summary: you've known Asahi since middle school and recently you developed a crush on your closest friend. you spend all night writing the prefect letter.

warning: nsfw but wholesome, body worship, overstimulation, unprotected sex, and eating out.

wc: 2k

you put the letter into your pocket and you're off to school. you walked enjoying the beautiful trees and you watched the people walk by. today was a beautiful day. you wondered what asahi was doing after practice. as if thinking about him summoned him. he walks up behind you with some of his friends.

"hey y/n," he said. you smiled up at him and kept walking to school. you walked in silence as the boys talked about plans for the weekend. once you guys got to the school, you switched out your shoes and headed to class.

all you could do was thinking about him. asahi. his beautiful brown hair and soft honey eyes. how he smiled, how even though he's tall he still was gentile and caring. i zoned out for most of the class and lunch. just drifting through life as your nerves were buzzing.

after everyone had left you went to get your shoes and wait for asahi outside the gym. he comes running up.

"hey y/n, whatcha doing here?" he asks and plops down next to you. you play with your fingers and look at the ground. you kept your head down. "hey, what's wrong?" his hand gently placed itself on your back and he leaned closer.

"oh it's nothing," your hand drove into your pocket and pulled out the pink envelope. he looks at the letter and was about to open it when the coach came out. he yelled at him to get his ass in here and asahi left.

you're heart was racing as you sat there. you stared off into space as you go up and went home.

asahi gets shoved into the gym and heads over to the locker room to change. he looks at the pink envelope and puts it safely into his bag.

"what's that?" daichi said leaning up against the doorway.

"hmm? oh, y/n gave it to me," he said pulling on his t shirt.

"oooh. a love letter?" he coos and shoves asahi.

"i doubt it, we've been friends since middle school," he smiles and walks to practice.

you laid down on your bed and sighed. "oh did i fuck up this bad! what if when you reads it, he thinks i'm weird. or he starts hating me, or it makes everything awkward!" you yell. you close your eyes to stop the tears. you sniffled and fell asleep.

after practice, asahi walked home. he tossed his bag on his bed and checked his phone. normally he has at least a text from you but there was nothing. he thought it was weird and remember the letter.

he opened the pink envelope. his hand were shaking. 'why am i so shaky? maybe the jokes daichi was making were true. what if this is a love letter from y/n? do i like her?' he opens the letter and reads the words. his heart is beating in his head.

he picks up his phone and sends you a quick message. you hear you phone ping and you opened it. you smiled and sent back a quick message.

you put on a pair of shorts and a baggy hoodie. you figured he had read the letter and just wanted to hang out like normal. no need to get dressed up.

you walked a few blocks and knocked on the door. you hear heavy footsteps running to the door. asahi opens and smiles down at you. his cheeks had a slight tint to them. he invites you in and you two walk to his room.

you sit on his bed. you look over his room. the pink envelope was on his desk. your eyes widen and your heart sinks. jesus christ he did read it. he sits on the other side of you.

you two sat there awkwardly for a few minutes.

"how was-" "was school-" you guys spoke at the same time. "you first," he said.

"oh, how was practice?" you looked away playing with your hands.

"oh ukai was going hard on me for being late,"

"sorry," you interrupt.

"it's fine, i don't mind being late if you're the reason," he smiles. "well daichi was getting in case in the locker room. he was making jokes about me and," he stopped. he moves to hold your hands. you look up at him and his face was bright red. "and i read your letter," he says looking away.

"oh, i'm sorry," you move your hands out of his. you get up, "it's fine if you don't like me back," you head towards the door. "i'm just gonna-" you were cut off by his hand hitting the door. you slowly turn around. he's looming over you.

"y/n..." he starts. he looks down. he goes back to his bed and sits down. you stand against the door. "i guess i've liked you since middle school," he says. "i just never knew how to say it," you walk over to him.

you stand in front of him as your hands loop around his shoulders. he looks up and arms his arms around your waist. he pulls you close to him. you play with his hair. one of his hands creases down your hip and ass to bring you knee onto the bed. you straddle his lap as he buries his face into the crook of your neck.

he tightens his hold on you and you giggle. he smiles. he realizes he's in love with you. he wants you. only you. he never wants to let go.

you pull away and he looks betrayed. you lean in and kiss him. he easily melts into the kiss and leans back onto the bed. his hands travel underneath your hoodie. he drags it up and you sit up. you pull it off. you tossed it by his desk. he just stared at you. he wanted to remember every inch of you.

you look at him, looking at you, and your face goes instantly red. you hands played with the hem of his shirt as he just soaked in all your delicate features. his hands rest on your hips.

he was in a daze as his eyes dart around your body. "hey ahi," he looks up at you in a haze. you unclip your bra and let it slide down your arms. his eyes widen. he sits up and, in a shift motion, pins you against the bed. he kisses you. you smile into the kiss and you hand push up his shirt.

he sits up and rips off his shirt. he drives back down and kiss your neck. his fingers tangle into his long brown hair. he pecks your soft skin. he kisses at the base of your neck and your breath hitches.

you feel him smile against your skin and sucks on the soft skin. you grip his hair and arc your back. his hand slips under your back to pull you closer to his chest. his hand creases your lower back and his fingers slip under the waistband of your shorts. he moves away from your neck and pulls down your shorts.

you bite your lip and look away. he can't help but stare at your beautiful body. his fingers grip your chin. he pulls you to look at him. "you're so beautiful y/n," he whispers. your face goes bright red as he chuckles.

he sinks off the bed. he pulls your legs off the bed. he places your legs on his shoulder. he licks his lips as he kisses your thighs. his lips circle around your sensitive clit. he leans forward, pushing your legs up. he holds your thighs as he sucks your clit. you squeeze your knees together and moan out his name.

his hands pull your legs away from crushing his head as his tongue swirls around your clit. one of his hands moves to massage your boob. your hand rests on top of his as he plays with the flesh. your other hand tangles your fingers into his hair and you pull your legs closer causing his face to smush into your pussy. he moans into you as you tighten your grip on his hair.

he looks up to see your face bright red and eyes shut closed. your mouth hangs open with silent moans. he quickens licking to see your face twist in pleasure. you moan out his name as his fingertips leave bruises. you arc you back as you come. he laps up your juices.

you loosen your grip on his hair and you legs go limp on his shoulders. he massages your thighs as you come down from your high. he pulls away and climbs onto the bed. he leans down a kisses your forehead. your legs are pressed against your chest. he pulls his sweat pants down just enough for him to slip his hardened member out.

"god i've been waiting to do this for a long time," he whispers. he drags the tip of his dick across your slick folds. he looks up at you.

"if you're just gonna tease me," you were cut off by him slamming into you. you let out a breathy moan.

"goddamn, keep making noises like that, i might not last long," he groans out. he leans down and kisses your cheek to let you get adjusted to his size. you put your hand on his cheek. he smiles and snuggles into your hand.

"you're such a teddy bear," you giggle. he glares at you but holds his adorable smile. he leans down and kisses you. you wrap your arms around his neck. he slowly moves out. you whence at the movement.

"sorry," he whispers. you smash your lips back into his. he thrusts back in and continued at a slow pace. he licks the bottom of your lip and you open your mouth to let him explore. His tongue grazed over every inch of your mouth. He quickens his pace. You moan into the kiss.

He pulls away from the kiss and continues to rut into you. He watches you jerk underneath him. Your cute little moans fuel the fire in him as he pounds into you. You closed your eyes and let the euphoria feel wash over your body. Asahi continues at this pace, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as he tries to bring himself to finish.

"Damn y/n, you feel so good," he grumbles. You just sigh in agreement. you feel him tense up and his trust become sloppier. His hand rubs circles into your abused clit. The pressure building up in your stomach comes undone by his constant pounding and the overstimulation from his finger. "Come for me, babygirl," he whispers.

You do as your told and within seconds you spit out profanities and his name. The slick made it easier for him to trust in and out. your pussy clenches around him. He groans and you feel him fill you up. He weakly thrusts a few times and shrugged your legs off his shoulders. He falls onto your chest.

You wrap your arms around him. You play with his heart as he steadies his breathing. you two laid like that for what felt like hours. His eyes were closed and his face was soft and fast asleep. You smiled and closed your eyes to join him in sleeping.

That morning you woke up to soft kisses littering your face, neck and chest. You flutter your eyes open. He looked up at you. "Good morning sweetheart," he whispered and kisses you chest.

"Good morning chi," you whisper, letting your hands brush through his chocolate locks.

[kaiparker-avengerssmut]

Our Doll 14// Here we Go Again

B.Barnes x S.Rogers, B.Barnes x Stark!Reader, S.Rogers x Stark!Reader

Series Synopsis | After the events of the horrific past, y/n Stark, Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes have finally admitted their feelings for each other. But is life as an avenger whilst dating two super soldiers any easier than anything y/n’s experienced in the past?

sequel Series to Their Doll

Series Warnings | smut, violence, torture, swearing, threesomes, drug usage/substance abuse

Chapter Summary | y/n and Bucky get closer again

Warnings | blood, implied violence

A/n | This is a sequel book/series to my fic Their Doll! This book loosely follows the mcu timeline, starting in CAWS in book one and starting just before AOU in this book. Bucky had been recovered and is safe, and Peter was taken under Tony's wing when he was much younger.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

"My scar." Y/n mumbled, looking up at Bucky suddenly. The man hummed, placing his book on his lap to look back at his girl.

"What about it?" Bucky mumbled back with curiosity.

"You said those...dreams were what you would've done if we'd been together before the war, but I still had my scar. You could've gotten rid of it, but you didn't." Y/n explained, a confused frown dancing over her brow when he smiled.

"It's because I love you, all of you. That scar, it tells a story that you shouldn't have to tell, but shouldn't ever forget. It's part of you, like this," Bucky lifted his metal arm, waving the plated hand slightly, "is part of me."

Y/n smiled light from where she sat across the couch; she still didn't feel comfortable being too close to Bucky after the whole locking her up thing, but she was getting closer.

"I'm sorry." He abruptly blurted and y/n frowned. Bucky took a deep sigh before continuing. "I really can't tell you how sorry I am about...about, well, everything?" Bucky proposed and y/n shifted in her seat slightly.

"Oh." Was all she managed, placing her own book on the flimsy coffee table that sat parallel to the torn up sofa in the motel room they were staying in. "Thanks, I guess?" She supplied and Bucky blinked at her. "I'm sorry, I'm just not good at this stuff, I guess. I'm so confused as to how I should feel right now." Y/n vented and Bucky smiled.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. I'm just happy you can bare me enough to talk to me, I was terrified that I may have lost your trust forever." He mumbled, tentatively reaching to take y/n's hand. When she didn't flinch or pull away, he held it in his own.

"I just don't know what to feel; on the one hand, you let them lock me up, but on the other, well, you did everything you could to keep me comfortable and you got me out." Y/n admitted and Bucky nodded, understanding. "And I still love you." She added quietly and Bucky grinned, before wiping the expression from his face.

They'd been on the run for a couple of weeks now, skipping between dingy motels and safe houses that had been long forgotten. Using a code, Bucky and Peter had kept in contact. Apparently, Tony and Sharon were furious.

"I love you too. Do you want some food yet?" Bucky asked and y/n nodded. He got up and crossed the room to gather some money and the room key. "I'll be back in half an hour tops, okay?" Bucky checked and y/n nodded.

"See you later." She murmured as the door slammed shut.

Alone with her thoughts again.

Y/n would rather be in Bucky's company than alone still. Even after the stuff he'd done, she couldn't stop herself from loving him. And it's not like she hadn't done her own fair share of bad things, too.

The girl sighed, rubbing her eyes as she felt the drowsiness of sleep overcome her. Maybe she could get a nap in before Bucky got back.

...

Bucky kept his head down. His hair had grown longer; he hadn't bothered cutting it since they left. His hood was drawn tightly over his face and his steps were quick as he paced to the closest store that sold food.

Once he reached the shop, Bucky rigged a hand - the flesh one - from his pocket and pulled open the door. When inside, he hastily went in search of some decent food.

Although, he instantaneously discovered one of the down sides to shopping at night - drunk people. The boisterous laughed filled his ears like water as Bucky hunted through the shelves, slurred insults thrown back and forth within the group of men.

"Hey, you!" Shit. Bucky looked up. "Yeah, you with the long hair!" One of them boomed and Bucky scoffed, shaking his head as he turned back to the section of ready-made sandwiches.

"Hey, look at me." The man persisted and Bucky rolled his eyes. They boy looked back to his friends, all clearly amused with the situation before the guy was swinging a punch in Bucky's direction.

On instinct, the super soldier caught the guy's fist in his hand. His metal hand. The guy looked so aghast that Bucky had to stop himself from laughing.

...

"This may hurt a little." Y/n sighs, eyes squinted as she threads the needle in front of her. Bucky swallows his groan of pain, giving her a stiff nod before letting his head knock back into the wall behind him. Y/n steps between her boyfriend's legs, pulling his arm forwards and letting a small apology slip from her lips when he hissed.

"Fuck!" Bucky cursed, metal fist slamming into the counter that he was sat on, the dent large and lined with splintered wood. Y/n winced a little but continued, her voice twisting around whisper sweet nothings to calm him down.

Bucky's breathing was heavy, laboured, as y/n continued to sew up the gash, lip pulled between her teeth in concentration.

"Almost there...just a little more..." Her small voice mumbled as Bucky's metal a whirred.

"Fuck me, please remind to never piss off a group of drunk guys again." Bucky groans, but y/n could only find herself biting her lip harder at the thought of fucking him again.

Clearly, this intimate moment had helped her see past his mistakes.

Huh.

"I'm so sorry, y/n. I'll be more careful next time." Bucky promises, flesh hand reaching to cup her cheek when he pulls back - remembering her hesitance.

"It's not your fault. I'll still patch you up each and every time it happens." Y/n smiled tightly, almost with pity when she eyes his retracted hand.

Bucky nods solemnly before moving to hop off the crappy bathroom counter in their motel room, only to cut himself short with a groan.

"Easy, soldier." Y/n jokes, placing her hands onto her boyfriend's hips to help him down.

"Thanks." He mumbled low before hobbling off, eyes biting back tears as he limped through the room to flop on the creaky bed.

Y/n sighs heavily, watching him go with a sad expression. Bucky flicked the TV on - blue light sliding over his features in a haunting highlight; the structure of his bones protruding with the flashing colour of people moving across the screen.

"Y/n." Bucky hissed as she wrung out the little towel - now full of blood and stained a deep crimson.

Her her snapped up, the wet fabric falling into the sink with a soggy slap before she was stumbling across the room to perch on the edge of the bed.

"Oh my god." She exclaimed, hand tight over her mouth I shock at the screen.

"Suspect in the bombing is none other than James Buchan Barnes and Y/n Stark. We'll be back with more information when we have it." The presenter finished, accompanied by pictures of both y/n and Bucky stealthily away from the building, which was now laying in ruins.

"Oh my god." She repeated, horrified at the sight of King T'Chaka and all the victims.

Bucky Barnes Series/mini Series | @buckysgirl101 @quxxnxfhxll @marvelhoesworld @macylawz @Zaphdekota @theoldermanswhore @addriaenne @thegirlwiththeimpala @turkish276 @lilpopizzle @gooseyhouse @ohmy-fandoms @harrysthiccthighss @partiesandblurrypolaroids @prettysbliss @the-surviving-revolutionist @white-wolf1940 @dpaccione @tenaciousperfectionunknown @loveyou5everr @vallerydevora @multihoee @supraveng @cap-n-ce @sebbyxlover @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @veronicapaula @ravenmoore14 @frickin-bats @itstaylorcale @sunflowerbunny2 @spookyparadisesheep

[infrequent-creator]

Busted

Summary: Japanese thief, Yume Iwao, is on the run to find a hiding spot. Little did they know, it was the League of Villains’ hideout. 

A/N: Ahhhhh this is my first time writing on here in a while. I made an OC who i thought would be cute with Shiggy. I hope you like them as much as i do! (chapter 2 has the tickles in it hehe)

Word Count: 1,414

TW: adults drinking, marijuana use, brief kidnap?

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Sirens wailing downs the streets of Japan.

"Shit.." Yume whispered quietly. They pushed their black glasses up on their nose.

Clutching their backpack strap tight, Yume scanned for a hiding spot. They couldn't go home until dark, they lived pretty far. Plus, the police would surely follow them. Luckily the stores they knocked off were on the older side of the city. Most of the homes were condemned, so lots of homeless people used them for shelter. No biggie. Nothing that they couldn't handle, they've surely been through worse. Quickly digging through their backpack, they changed the hoodie they were wearing. Yume shoved the rest of their hair under the hat.

They settle on a house a couple streets away. Plus, they didnt even need to break anything to get inside. The back door was cracked open. Slipping inside, they let the door shut gently behind them. The air was somewhat stale and old, but it'll do. Walking a little deeper inside, they open the closest door. Flipping the light on, gasping as their blood runs cold. It's a bedroom. The room wasn't much, just a bed, a cage in the corner, a small table with a computer covered in notes, and a closet. Iwao needed to get out of there fast, before whoever lived here came back.

Suddenly, the back door opened. Yume froze in place.

"I told you, hot head, leave the pipe in the door when we go out. What if we lost the key?" a raspy voice spoke.

"Then you're even dumber than I thought, not that I'm surprised.." another low voice responded. Shit shit SHIT! They become frantic, quickly turn the light off again. Yume ran to hide inside the closet, leaned against the cool wood in the back of it. Their anxiety teetered on the brink of a panic attack. Air fills their lungs as they take deep, controlled breaths.

"Yeah yeah guys quit your bitching, I'll order food later. I'm gonna change first, this shirt smells like shit." Whoever lived in here, their scent was very pleasant. The slight sense of tea and old spice filled Yume's nose. They heard the bedroom door close, then some rustling. They slowly peak out of the crack in the closet door. There was a guy in the room, crouching by the cage.

"Hey buddy hey, you miss me huh? You miss daddy?" He cooed at the cage. 'Who was he talking to?' They wondered.

He stood up fully, gods he was tall. His scraggly light blue hair hung to his shoulders. He set his phone down aside, only to grab the bottom of his shirt. Yume's cheeks heat up as he pulls it off, but all that goes out of their mind when they feel something jump down onto their shoulders. Yume let out scream as they tripped over something in the closet, falling through the doors. They ended up face up at the ceiling, frozen. Suddenly, the man was on top of Yume, pinning them to the floor by the throat with 4 fingers.

"Who the FUCK are you and why are you in my room?!" He growled in his raspy voice, his red eyes dilated.

They stuttered as they spoke. "I-I'm sorry..! I was just-!"

"What's going on in there?" the second voice from earlier shouted from outside.

"Dabi get a rope and a chair, quick!" Panicked breaths fill Yume's lungs. There was the sound of the bedroom door slamming into the wall. Another man rushed in with the requested items. He was definitely scarier than the guy that had them by the neck. The thing was, the grip wasn't even tight. He was only using 4 fingers to hold their throat, maybe his quirk had something to do with that.

"What the fuck is going on here, Shigaraki?" Shigaraki...why did that name sound so familiar? Yume didn't have time for this, these guys were probably going to kill them, or worse. Which meant they had to act fast. They used their shoulder to shove Shigaraki into the wall. They rush to the door, trying to get past Dabi. Sadly, he was stronger than they anticipated. He dropped both items and grabbed them. Quickly, he threw their backpack to the floor, twisting your arm behind their back. Yume yelped in pain, trying to shake him off.

"Feisty little brat you found Shiggy, maybe they'd make a nice new Nomu?" Dabi growled in their ear.

"LET GO OF ME YOU FREAK!" Yume screamed. Shigaraki was on his feet, one hand on the chair. Dabi spun them into the chair, landing roughly. Both Shigaraki's hands used all his strength to hold their shoulder's down. Again, only using 3 fingers and a thumb on hold each shoulder. What was his deal? The two passed the rope back and forth around Yume torso, all the while they tried to wiggle free.

"I'd stop moving around brat, wouldn't want these fingers of mine to slip.." Shigaraki's raised finger gently teased the skin on their shoulder. Yume froze at the feeling, their skin was tingling, almost vibrating. It didn't hurt, but it was certainly a strange feeling. What kind of quirk was this? Not wanting to risk it, reluctantly they stop moving.

"Much better, now. Who are you...and why the fuck are you in my room?" he walked around the chair to stand with Dabi. Yume finally got a chance to get a good look at the both of them.

Fuck they were both terrifying. Yume felt their lip quiver, their eye glossing up a little too.

"Not talking huh? I'd reconsider that. We'd hate to have to use our quirks on you, brat." Dabi stepped closer to Yume, their struggling amplified. Suddenly, Dabi's whole arm burst into blue flames. They shrank away with a yelp, the flames inches from their skin. Yume closed their eye under the glasses they were still wearing. Dabi let his flames go out, leaving a stinging heat on Yume's cheek.

"The results could be dastardly..." Shigaraki's right hand slowly inched to Yume's face.

"W-Wait.. hey get away from me...don't touch me HEY!" Their eye open with fear. 5 fingertips touched on the lenses of their glasses. Before their eye, Yume's glasses turned to powder in their lap.

"Well well, look at you. Does that have to relate to your quirk? They might make an interesting Nomu yet.." Shigaraki pointing at Yume's eye.

"Y-yeah I can um, petrify things...anything." They explained softly.

"Interesting. Tell me brat, why haven't you used it on us yet?" Dabi cocked his eyebrow.

"B-Because...I don't like using it on people unless I have to. I mainly just use my bat." Nodding to their bat on the floor near their backpack.

"Really...such a shame. Now listen, if I don't get some answers as to why you're in my room..." Shigaraki quickly snatched Yume's backpack off the floor, dumping the content on the bed. "...or I'll start putting my quirk to use." He picked up one of their personal items, which just so happened to be their art tablet.

"Ok ok...jeez..my name is Iwao Yume. I'm here because I was hiding from the police." Making eye contact with their lap. Dabi laughed a little, causing you to look up.

"The police? What could a tiny thing like you do to make the police chase you?" He snickered. Yume huffed.

"Open the brown bag there...but anything in there is mine." Yume said assertively. Shigaraki grabbed the bag and opened it. Dumping it out, at least 200,000 yen fell on to his palm.

"Oh shit.." Both of them said under their breath.

"Where did you get this much money?"

"I robbed a couple stores in the same mall before the cops were called. Please, I really need it. I'll leave right now just.. please don't take the money." Yume's eye welled up with tears peaking in both corners. Both men looked at Yume, to tell the truth. They both felt a little bad, of course neither of them would admit that to each other, or Yume.

"No." Shigaraki put the money back in the bag and closed it. Yume looked a little startled, some tears dropping from their eye.

"N-No?" Yume asked, suddenly very worried.

"No, you can't leave here. They'll be looking for you. They find you, they find us. You're staying here tonight." As he spoke, he let all his fingers touch the rope.

Wait... WHAT?!

[destiniesfic]

132 Hours, Chapter 14

“Does this mean we’re free to go?”

“I… don’t know.”

Previous

Read chapter 14 on AO3 or read below:

Cardan and I pass the water bottle back and forth until it’s empty, without speaking. When he reaches over and sets it down on the floor beside the mattress, I know what he’s thinking. I’m thinking it too, but I don’t want to voice it aloud, because that would mean moving and doing, and neither of us want to do that. I want to stay tangled up in the admittedly horrible blankets, my side pressed against Cardan’s, while I catch my breath and take stock of myself. I feel drained and thirsty, but strangely loose, like someone’s stretched me out with a taffy machine. Like the kid in Willy Wonka.

But I am also sore, in ways I did not expect and in places that I did not expect either. Thighs, yes, of course. But my core? If I clench my abs it hurts. And inside, too, I feel a little scraped raw, and I wonder how I’m supposed to bang out a whole heat without tearing something if this is how I am after just a few hours. The first time is supposed to be a little worse, though. A little more awkward. Maybe the next one will be better. Then I realize I am making plans for the future.

I stop looking at the unfinished basement ceiling and look at Cardan instead. We have come uncoupled from our final round, so he is next to me, not flush against my back or chest like he had been. The light plays on his tousled hair and his cheekbones and very full—even more full now that they are swollen—lips. He’s always looked like a statue carved by a sexually frustrated hand, and this is probably the most obscene I’ve ever seen him, but there’s something at peace and almost angelic about him right now. I don’t know whether to be bothered by it or not. I look at the ceiling again, tracing a line of tubing with my eyes.

“They haven’t come to check on us in a while,” I say at last.

“Yeah,” Cardan agrees, but he doesn’t move to do anything about it.

“We should figure out what’s going on.”

“Well, we were very loud.” He grins. “They probably didn’t want to interrupt.”

His smile is infectious, but my own fades quickly. I glance at him, then beyond him to the door. “It’s been like twelve hours. I think we need to check.”

“You think I need to check.”

I roll my eyes. “Yes, Alpha.”

“Oh, no,” he groans, bringing a hand to cover his face. A blush is creeping into his cheeks. “Don’t do that.”

“It’s the only time you’re going to hear it.” Very lightly, I kick his shin. By now he knows if I meant it to hurt him, I’d just hurt him. “Go on.”

Cardan groans again, then rolls to the side of the mattress, rummaging for his clothes. I am disappointed when he stands and pulls his jeans back on, but, since his back is turned to me, I take a second to admire the way they sit on his hips. He actually has a nice ass, and it feels weirdly refreshing to allow myself to think it without judgment. A lot of guys don’t. I can see the scars criss-crossing his back now, and there are fewer of them than I thought, and more faded. I am relieved for a second—fewer scars have to be a good thing, right?—until I remember that there are plenty of other ways to beat Cardan without leaving permanent marks and feel a flush of anger.

“You okay?” he asks, pulling a white shirt I haven’t seen before over his head. “You’re all over the place.”

I bristle. He’s referring to the thing both of us are avoiding. I can sense him too now, the same looseness I feel in my body, the relief, and the same spiky undercurrent of nervousness. It has to do with scent, to how we’re now much more attuned to the chemicals the other person gives off. I should have known better than to open myself up to something like that.

Before I can open my mouth to dismiss his claim, Cardan twists around to look at me. The t-shirt he’s wearing says “I went to the Hamptons, and all I got was this T-shirt!” in big, kitschy blue lettering, and I nearly choke on my own laughter.

He pulls the shirt out, frowning as he reads the lettering. “I mean, is it that bad? Gauche is kind of in, right?”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I know. You like it.” Cardan crosses the room and knocks on the door. “Hello,” he calls. “It’s safe. We’re done now.”

There is no response. I sit up, wincing when my abs protest. They’re usually pretty prompt.

Cardan’s frown deepens. He knocks harder. “Hey!”

“Do you hear anything?”

“No.” He slams the flat of his hand against the door. “But they can’t have just—”

I feel the panic rising in him as it rises in me. Would they leave us shut up in here? Cardan and I had both started to like our captors, especially as they helped us through the ordeal that was my heat; it was easy to forget that they were career criminals, not paid to be kind. If they or their employer had no more use for us, would they leave us locked in here to die?

“Try the knob,” I suggest.

Cardan puts his hand on the doorknob, rattles the handle, and looks dumbstruck when the door springs open. “What the…”

I scoot to the end of the mattress closest to the door and peer outside. I see no one. The chairs at the folding table are empty. “They left?” I ask, incredulous. “They just left?”

Cardan rubs the back of his neck. “Were we that loud?” Off my derisive look, he adds, “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Does this mean we’re free to go?”

“I… don’t know.” Wrapping one of the sheets around myself, I stand too. “We probably shouldn’t waste the opportunity.”

“Right,” he says, still dazed.

“Shower first,” I add.

He swings his head around to look at me. “They could come back. You sure you want to waste time on getting clean?”

“We didn’t stay alive all this time just so Madoc could kill you if he smells you on me.”

Cardan goes pale. “That is a very good point.”

I start gathering up my clothes—sweatshirt, shorts, tank top, discarded bra—while he goes to start the water. My ankle hurts less now, although it still twinges if I put too much pressure on it; three days off of it have helped it heal, apparently. I’ve never been great at giving myself recovery time, but maybe there’s something to be said for taking breaks.

When I limp to the bathroom, Cardan has already stripped down again and is washing off in the shower. He left the door open, so nothing is hidden. I nearly drop the clothes I am carrying, and scold myself. It’s not like I haven’t seen him before. It’s not like he wasn’t just inside of me.

But seeing him now, in the light, his skin glistening from shower spray, rubbing himself down with soap, is a completely different experience. I shake myself all over, remembering that he can sense me now and determined that he not know the extent of what I feel, because what I feel has so many dimensions—lust, longing, genuine affection—that I am a little scared of it. I drop my blanket and my clothes in a heap against the wall and join him under the water.

He both is and isn’t surprised when I step into the shower. I know he can sense me without looking, just like I’d know what direction to walk to get to him if we were dropped miles apart. It’s that thing we’re not talking about, that neither of us will name. Naming it will make it real. So instead of saying anything, Cardan picks up the bottle of lavender shampoo, squeezes a little into his palms, and begins massaging it into my hair.

I work very hard not to moan, but I do brace my hands against his chest. I allow myself that luxury. A splotch of color catches my attention, and I slide one hand up and gently press my fingers against the bite mark on his neck. “Did I do that?”

Cardan smirks, continuing to massage my scalp. “Yeah.”

“Huh.” I trace it with my fingers. “Are you mad?”

He pauses, and I have to force down a surge of panic. “I wish you’d asked,” he says at last.

My face burns. “I got carried away.”

“If you’d asked, I would have said yes.”

I look up. His mouth is curved with a sly little smile. My heart thuds.

“This is going to surprise you, but I haven’t gotten to make a lot of choices, historically. Not important ones.” He resumes lathering my hair. I have a lot of it. “I would have chosen you. I wish you’d let me.”

“Well, I—” My tongue feels thick and heavy in my mouth. “I’ll remember that for next time.”

He snickers. “Yeah.”

I step back to rinse out my hair. He watches me, not bothering to disguise it when his eyes trace over my body. Nothing’s going to happen. We’re both worn out. But, here and now, I don’t mind being looked at. My body, for all its myriad imperfections, got me through these last harrowing days, from escape attempt to the end of my heat and everything in between. He can like it. Maybe I can like it, too.

I stand on my toes to kiss him, and he wraps his arms around me, kissing me back as the water washes the last few days away, leaving behind the cloaking scent of lavender. When my hair is clean, I pick up the shampoo bottle and squirt some more into my hands. I hold my palms out to Cardan, who bends his head to me. And I help him get clean, too.

---

“You’re walking a little funny there,” Cardan says, later.

I glare at him over my shoulder. He is dressed, clean, his hair still dripping from the shower—and grinning like a cheshire cat. “I still have a bad ankle. So what?”

“No.” He circles his arms around my waist and pulls me into him, so my back comes to rest against his bare chest. I take a deep breath. His skin is still so warm. Nuzzling the side of my head, he says, sounding a little awed, “I did that.”

“And? Do you want a medal? Come on, we have to—” He starts kissing my neck, and I am briefly torn between rolling my eyes and pushing him back into our cell and onto the terrible mattress. In the end, I do neither. I close my eyes and let my head fall back against his shoulder. “Cardan.”

“I know.” He buries his head in the juncture of my shoulder and neck. He seems to like it there. “I know I know I know. Just a minute. Here.”

He takes my hands and pulls me across the basement, sitting in the empty chair that would normally belong to the Roach and positioning me so I stand in front of him. To my surprise, the next thing he does is wrap his arms around my waist again and bury his face in my stomach.

“Let’s not go up,” he says, his words slightly muffled by my tank top. “Let’s live in this basement.”

I rest my hand on the back of his head. “We can’t do that.”

“Maybe we can. The Roach was teaching me some stuff. Maybe we can get by stealing snacks from convenience stores and just be bandits forever. Basement bandits.”

I stroke my thumb through the short hairs at the nape of his neck. “I have college.”

“You can commute.”

“Oh, sure.” I place both my hands on his shoulders and give him a little push. “C’mon.”

He doesn’t budge. “It sucks out there, you know,” he says. “It really sucks. And it doesn’t make sense, I know it makes no sense, but I think this is the best thing that could have happened to me.”

“Aside from all of the parts of it that were terrible,” I point out.

“Yeah,” he agrees quietly. “Aside from that.”

“That was most of it, you know. I feel like the last few hours are really coloring your perception…” I trail off. “You don’t want to go home,” I realize aloud. “That’s what this is.”

Cardan’s shoulders tense. “Forget it.”

“Hey—”

He releases me and stands up. “You’re right. We should go.”

“Cardan.”

It seems like he is already halfway up the basement steps. Stupid long legs. I jog after him as best I can, catching up to him just after he pushes the door open. And then he is just standing there, taking in the ruined—or unfinished—house. I forgot that he hadn’t seen it before. With the sunlight streaming through the rafters, it is a pretty striking sight.

I find myself blinking. Has the sunlight always been this bright? I shield my eyes with my hand.

“What is this?” Cardan asks quietly.

“The Ghost said it was being built for somebody’s mistress,” I reply, even though that doesn’t really answer his question. “He said it was never finished.”

His frown is back. “But who—”

Then he stops, straightening, and I hear what he hears: the screeching sirens, then the unmistakable sound of roaring engines and car tires flattening the grass outside. We glance at each other and, unified in purpose, race to the front of the house.

We burst out the door to find four police cars, an ambulance, and two unmarked black cars swarming the house, tires screeching as they brake. The black cars race up the side of the field and come to a halt. The driver of the first one barely waits for the car to truly stop before he emerges, moving with surprising agility. His shoulders are broad, and even the adrenaline of the situation isn’t enough to suppress his slight limp.

Cardan is clutching my hand, or I am clutching his. “It’s Madoc,” I whisper. “Madoc is here.”

But Cardan is staring too, because the person who emerges from the second car is another familiar figure. This one has his cheekbones, his dark curly hair. “My brother,” he says, sounding surprised.

I don’t know if it’s a good or bad thing—that Balekin is here, that Balekin bothered—but I give his hand a squeeze and let it go, knowing one of us needs to do something, make this almost normal. I start across the field, intercepting Madoc a few yards from the house. His face is a storm of emotions and they are all unreadable to me.

“I,” I begin, but then he pulls me, one-armed, against his shoulder, and into a hug.

Madoc is, as a rule, not very affectionate. He loves us, although there has always been something terrifying about being loved by him, but he hasn’t hugged us since we were children. But he is hugging me, right now. His hand presses against the back of my head, like he is afraid that I will be taken again if he lets me go.

“Dad,” I whisper, and I let myself lean into him. My shoulders shake, and I tell myself I will not cry, I won’t. I am done with crying.

“Jude,” Madoc says. “I thought I’d lost you.”

My heart strains at its seams. Maybe I will cry.

But then I feel a prickle of awareness and pick my head up to look over at Cardan. The police are busy securing the perimeter, so Balekin has gotten to him first, and is talking to him in a low voice. He has his hand on Cardan’s shoulder. It might be friendly, brotherly. But tension in his Cardan’s posture makes me think it is not.

“Wait, just a second.” I make myself pull back from Madoc, then walk over to where Cardan is standing.

Balekin takes a step back. There is a smile on his face, which could be kindly, but has too sharp an edge for that. “Jude Duarte,” he says, by way of greeting. “I understand I have you to thank for my brother’s safety?”

I bristle, because I know he must see this as a mark of Cardan’s lack of worth. Protected by an omega. It takes a lot of self-restraint not to grab Cardan’s hand again. “We looked out for each other. He saved my a—me, too.”

“Hmm.” Balekin’s eyes narrow.

“Can someone tell us what’s really going on?” Cardan asks. I feel his discomfort like it’s mine. “What the hell happened? How did you find us? How are you here?”

“Your phones and wallets were turned in at the police precinct,” says Madoc, coming up to join us. “Along with GPS coordinates leading to this address.”

Cardan and I look at each other. “Well, I won’t have to get my driver’s license replaced,” he jokes. “Good. Hate the DMV.”

“But who did this?” I ask. “Who was behind it?” I look at Balekin before I can really stop myself.

He raises an eyebrow, but he says, “Our brother, Dain.”

“He confessed?” Cardan asks, disbelieving.

“In a way.”

“He’s no longer a concern,” Madoc says with a finality that indicates no further questioning will be entertained.

Cardan and I look at each other. “But—” Cardan begins, just as I say, “Why?”

“The details don’t matter,” Balekin says. “Cardan—”

“We should let the paramedics examine them,” Madoc interjects. “Jude’s wounded.”

“It’s really a scratch,” I protest.

“Great!” exclaims Cardan, walking past me and toward the ambulance. Balekin looks frustrated, but lets him go and stalks back to his own car, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket. I move to follow Cardan until Madoc lays a hand on my shoulder.

“Jude,” he says, in a low voice. “That boy.”

I notice the furrow of his brow, the slight flare of his nostrils, and wish the earth would swallow me up. “It’s all right,” I say, avoiding his searching gaze. “It isn’t his fault. He didn’t do anything I didn’t ask for. We were trapped together for a long time.”

“I didn’t think you were friends,” he says. There is a slowness to his words that suggests he’s choosing them carefully. Or maybe he’s judging me.

“I’m not sure what we are.”

“It’s very clear what you are.”

“Dad,” I whisper, scandalized.

His face softens. “We’ll figure it out. If you say he helped you, then I will take you at your word.” He releases me. “Go get looked at.”

To escape the conversation, I am more than happy to oblige.

Next